#Words are hard and there are only so many Ways to misinterpret a Hug

[satorusugurugurl]

That angst fic 😵‍💫😵‍💫 got me thinking, what about a similar smut fic where when reader is stressed and overworked the boys try to be gentle and caring but all she wants is to be rough fucked, degraded, the works. She has to plead with them but they eventually cave. But once they are done it’s back to soft and sweet aftercare. So basically, open masochist reader :3 I could also lowkey imagine reader being insecure about wanting it to be rough and mean, I see so much stuff of people demonizing it on social media, definitely makes it something that is difficult to be open about. I think a lot of ppl also get it confused with CNC which is not the same thing. Consent and safety are what matters

-🍭

Salty and Sweet

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, FAB!Reader

Warning content: smut, dirty talk, vulgar language, , Satoru is a bit hesitant

Word Count: 1,680

A/N: Anon, you have inspired me. This is a little blurb of what I could see happening in a case like this! I’m working on Escort!Gojo and another request! I was hoping to have that request done tonight (but it’s taken a life of its own) I try to post once a day, but I’ve been working ten-hour days for the last two weeks, so I’m exhausted. 😵‍💫

Your boyfriends watched as you paced back and forth, arms crossed as you chewed on your bottom lip. You had mentioned wanting to talk to them about trying something new, but you seemed to be hesitant and struggling to find the right words. If they were being honest, it was almost cute seeing you struggle to voice what you wanted. The timid, innocent side of you was so adorable the duo wanted to smother you with kisses and cuddles.

“I don’t know if I can say it!” You yelled out, tilting your head back with a groan.

Suguru smiled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You can tell us anything, Y/N. Trust me, this is a safe space.” While his words were comforting, you still found yourself hesitant to voice your wants.

“Suguru’s right. There’s only one way to know if we’re okay with what you want us to try.” Satoru added, leaning back against the couch with a yawn.

“I know! I know!” Your flustered tension was shifting into more frustration. “I just don’t want you to, ya know, think that I’m some deviant.”

Satoru and Suguru shared a look; their years of friendship always came out in times like these; they both held hands in front of their mouth before leaning in close to each other. Their voices dropped maybe a tone as they fake whispered to each other.

“Do you wanna tell her or me?”

“You tell her that being in a poly-relationship is pretty deviant.”

“Oh yeah, for sure!”

Satoru’s head jerked in your direction with a devious smirk. “Hey, you kno—“ Satoru smacked his lips together the instant he saw how flushed you were, how you hugged yourself as tight as you could while you watched them in mortification. “Y/N, hey, no, it’s okay.” The duo stood from their spots on the couch, their stomachs dropping as you dropped your head, focusing on the ground.

Whatever it was that you wanted to try had you twisted in knots of unease and shyness. “Please, for once, can you guys take me seriously.” The room was like being in the eye of a hurricane before it hit. “This is hard for me to say because many people misinterpret what I wanted in the past. I don’t want to scare you guys off or have you look at me any differently.” Suguru put a reassuring hand on your back, gently rubbing it up and down, encouraging you to continue while Satoru gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Sorry, please tell us.”

“Yeah, we won’t look at you any differently.”

A bitter scoff escaped the back of your throat. “You say that now, but so many people in the past demonized what I wanted and got it confused with different kinks.”

“Y/N, come on, babe, just tell us.”

With a deep breath, you sighed with a nod. “Okay, just promise you’ll at least consider what I’m asking. You can take as much time as you need.” Both your boyfriends nodded in understanding. Fuck, your hands were clammy as you shook them out. Now was the time. “I-I want you both to be mean to me in bed.” You blurted out.

You waited for the worst reactions. Like them pulling away from you in disgust, asking a million questions, or wanting to comply with your desires. Which was fine. They were not required to do what you wanted in bed.

Neither of them did anything close to that. They just hummed, watching you, waiting for you to continue like they wanted you to specify what that meant. What you wanted, how you wanted it, when you longed for this to occur. You were waiting a second more for your glance up between your dark-haired boyfriend before your gaze drifted to Satoru.

“Okay, so, I was hoping maybe we could have really rough sex? Maybe you could degrade me, be a little nastier?”

Gojo’s beautiful ivory skin was dusted with a faint blush, his eyes leaving you before focusing on Suguru. “I don’t have much experience in that; could you give me some pointers, Suguru?” Suguru didn’t need to answer because one second you were standing between them, and the next you were over his shoulder with Gojo trailing behind like a puppy.

Minutes passed, or maybe it had been hours. It was hard to tell with all the oxytocin and dopamine that flooded your brain. Your wants and needs were finally embraced for the first time. Suguru took the lead, and fuck Satoru was right. Suguru did have pointers for him.

“Oooh~ you nasty fucking slut.” Suguru degraded his hands wrapped in your hair, forcing you to choke on Satoru’s cock. “Taking two cocks at once like a dirty nasty fucking whore.”

”S-Suguru, do you have to be so mean?” Satoru was struggling a bit more to really get into the whole degrading you thing. He wasn't uncomfortable with it, more so that he wasn’t sure how to do it. He needed practice to ease himself out of the role as a soft dom and more into a hard, demanding dom.

Suguru cocked a dark eyebrow up at his boyfriend as his cock slammed in and out of your dripping pussy. “Mean?” He pulled your hair lifting you off Satoru’s cock. “I’m not being mean in the slightest. Look at our dirty slut.” Following Suguru’s demands, Satoru looked down at you, his cock twitching as you both made eye contact.

You were a drooling mess. Eyes rolled back into your head as Suguru snapped his hips forward, causing a yelp to rise from your throat. Your hair was a disheveled mess, tears were staining your cheeks, and goddamn, you looked like you were having so much fucking fun.

“M-More~” you begged, tongue lolling out as Suguru pucked up the pace of his thrusts. “M-More, please!”

”Oh, Oh!” Suguru smirked, releasing your hair, causing your head to drop into Satoru’s bare lap. “You heard her, Satoru, the greedy little whore wants more.”

“Yeah?” Satoru gently stroked strands of hair out of your face as you struggled to keep your head up. “You want a more sweet girl?”

”Y-Yeah, I do.”

Satoru needed some form of guidance, so he looked up to his best friend. His dark hair pulled over his right shoulder, his dark eyes transfixed on your head. “Go on, Satoru, give her what she wants.” The way Suguru purred Satoru’s name had you both shivering.

”Okay, okay,” Satoru gently pulled your hair, “you’re going to suck my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”

”Y-Yes Satoru, I’ll suck it for you, I’ll suck it, so go—oooh!!” Suguru slapped Satoru’s hand away. ”Naggh! Ah fuck S-Sugu!”

”You’re doing it all wrong, you himbo.” Satoru gritted his teeth as Suguru forced your mouth down onto his cock again. “She wants you to be fucking mean. Trust me. I feel her slutty fucking cunt clenching around me. She loves this, don’t you, Y/N?” All you could do was hum in response, deepthroating Satru breathing through your nose. “Look at her, being a greedy fucking whore, getting all her holes filled at once.”

Between the warmth of your mouth and the tears in your eyes, Satoru’s balls tightened, his ab’s flexing as he gently began fucking into your mouth. “Fucking slut.” Satoru’s words had you whimpering around him, and you bobbed your head faster, eager for him to degrade you more.

”That’s more like it, Satoru!” Suguru grinned, his free hand reaching down, rubbing your cit in fast circles. “Keep talking to her like that. She’s getting so close.”

You mumbled in agreement, only to have your words choked off by the fat cock forcing its way further down your throat. “What was that? You want to cum bitch?” You could only gag. “Ah, sorry, it’s hard to hear you when you're gagging on my cock.”

You gagged, cried, and trembled as both men fucked into you ruthlessly, your walls clamped down, eyes rolling back as you clutched the sheets so hard you were surprised that they didn’t rip as your orgasm hit you. It was so intense, wave after wave of pleasure! You moaned and gagged around Satoru’s cock; the white-haired man let out a whimper as he fucking his cum down your throat, biting his lip as your tight cunt hugged Suguru so tight you fell against you back, rutting into you like some animal in rut.

“Oh fuck princess, oh fuck, you want all my cum~? Hm? Then take it!” With one final deep thrust, Suguru came inside your still-twitching cunt. “Oooh fucking hell! That’s it, milk me bitch, milk me for all I got!” It was somewhere in between that moment that Gojo gently pulled you off his sensitive cock. “H-Haah shit baby.”

“S-She felt so good.”

This was heaven. You were in heaven with your boyfriends. You felt so satisfied, so normal, and thankful as the two of them were not at all shaming you for your kinks. God, thinking about all of the nasty little things they would say and do to you from now on turned you on.

“Felt good?” you panted roughly as Suguru smirked. “you honestly thought this skank would be content with one orgasm? No, we're nowhere near being done, are we, princess?” You were lifted with ease by Suguru as he planted you directly in Satoru’s lap. “Let’s continue, shall we?” His cock brushed over your bottom lip. “Safeword is pineapple.”

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #12

[Mermay Special Part 2 a/n This is an interactive story, your choice continues it, so choose wisely!]

"No, we are not! What are you saying?!"

Confused and appalled by your friend's statement, you flinched as they swam closer, placed their arm around your waist, and pulled you towards them. You were about to push them away when the room suddenly burst into loud, merry laughter. It was both a symphony and a cacophony, catching you off-guard and only allowing your friend to press you against them more. And still shaken with surprise, you clung to them.

As frustrating as it was, they were still the safe anchor in all of this, even though you had doubts about how safe they truly were. 

"Well, this is great!" the king, your friend's father, cheered, swimming down from his throne and right up to you, giving you a big hug. "We are so glad our little guppy found his mate!"

You wanted to protest, but his arms around you were so tight that you were scared they'd smash you if you said anything wrong. When you were finally released, you noticed that all of the mermaids had come closer, even the queen, who remained silent. Most were patting your friend on the back, telling them, "Well done!" and you felt some of the merfolks' hands gliding through your hair and touching your hands or shoulders in fleeting motions. It was unbearable. 

Perhaps through your closeness or the way your breathing turned into gasps, gills flaring, your friend noticed the tension shaking through you, gracefully commanding the attention of everyone as they announced, "It's been quite a day of travel to come here. I think we'll retreat for today but thank you all so much for the kind welcome!"

Everyone seemed to buy the excuse your friend was dishing to them. You looked into many warm and kind eyes, giving you only a tiny bit of solace, but it didn't matter right then. All that mattered was your friend guiding you away, pulling you through the water when the tension made it too hard to focus on using your own tail. It wasn't until the door to your room was shut behind you that you felt like you could breathe again, and the mood shifted from panic to anger.

"What was that?! Why did you lie and say we are in love and marrying soon?!"

Your apparent anger fell on deaf ears when your friend simply cocked his head in confusion, unsure how to reply to your accusations. Sighing, you shook your head, feeling a huge headache spread as you rubbed your temples; your attention suddenly diverted to the jewelry on your wrists, countless beaded bracelets and golden hoops now adorning you, and even around your shoulders were strings of pearls, and intricately made necklaces. They were all in places you had been touched before but you hadn't noticed. Immediately, the confusion returned to you, your emotions being thrown for a loop that day.

"I never said we were," he finally replied, swimming down to where you sat on the sandy floor of the room and cupping your cheek. "We're friends, right? I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable and less out of place. That's why I told my family we are best friends."

"No, I heard it. You said we are in love, and your father asked about my intentions to marry you! I'm sure about it!"

They chuckled, adorable dimples forming on their face, and seemingly completely relaxed even when you felt quite the opposite. "Were you that nervous? Our language does sound a little different than yours. Maybe you misinterpreted it?"

There was no getting through to your friend, who kept denying what you heard! That and the headache made you feel miserable, and you barely listened as your friend babbled on. "I want to go home," you mumbled, exhaustion washing over you. 

"Oh, I know a place! It's great for sunbathing, and everyone there enjoys the waves rushing around them! We should go and check it out!"

It was so hard to follow your friend's words, but that wasn't at all what you wanted. You wanted to go home! Or at least... rest. This had all been too much for you, and the headache was tiring you out. But should you really rest in this unfamiliar place? Home was just a portal jump away, should you insist on leaving? 

A hand fell into your vision, outstretched and inviting. Your friend was smiling down at you, entirely at peace, even though your inner conflict raked at your nerves. Their shoulders were relaxed, expression kind and compassionate as they looked at the sorry state you were in. 

"I should really go home," you mumbled and they gave you an understanding nod. 

"Right away. We'll check out the sunspot, and then we'll go home, I promise. It's not far, I'll guide you."

Their hand popped up again, inviting you to take it, although you were conflicted about what to do. You wanted to insist on leaving now, but they also promised to take you home afterward. It could be the little adventure in this supernatural world that you could tell your future children. You took a deep breath through your gills, bracing yourself, the headache subsiding a little as you gathered all your strength.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[thefrogdalorian]

Do you ever think about how many times Din was probably misunderstood throughout his life because of his helmet? How much pain he must've been in when people's opinions of him did not match the man beneath the armour... I can't even fathom how many times a small gesture or something he said was misinterpreted because of his appearance...

Imagine him trying really hard to fix it at the start before eventually giving up because it was too hard and just resigning himself to barely speaking, not wanting to be known by others after many bad experiences. I think that explains a part of why we find him so isolated and distant at the beginning of The Mandalorian.

Encountering Grogu really changed Din's life in so many ways... the child not only gave him a purpose other than bringing in the next bounty and running from the past, but Grogu also made him WANT to try and regain that connection with others that he had been missing for so long. Just contrast how little he speaks in the early chapters to how talkative he is to Grogu at the beginning of season 3 as he educates him about Mandalorian culture and history, it's such a monumental shift from who he was at the beginning.

I want to hug him tightly, he deserves the word.

[nenilein]

Hello! Apologies for sending an ask out of the blue but considering your familiarity with localisation differences in persona 4/golden, I was wondering if anything comes to your mind regarding this aspect and how the game depicts queerness and queer themes? Thank you!

Heya! Don't worry, I was thinking people would probably ask stuff like this. After all, I already replied to somebody's tags asking this same thing previously, but I know not many people saw that, so let me use the chance to go into more detail:

Unfortunately, Persona 4's treatment of queer themes is not a result of the translation. The only things that were down to translation choices were small things, such as which pronouns are used in which situation (because Japanese does not at all have the same concept of third person pronouns as English, and the way first person classifiers that mean "I" work is very complex and a lot more vibes-based than actually tied to gender.)

But for the most part, everything is pretty much the same. Kanji's reaction to Chie mumbling about something being "off" about how he interacted with Naoto that first time, the tent scene, Yosuke's extreme insecurity in his own sexuality in addition to everyone else's... I think maybe the only thing that's a biiit better in Japanese is that Teddie is kiiinda genderfluid in Japanese, with the artbook outright stating that he doesn't necessarily consider himself "male" when he's in his bear form, unless it's necessary for a joke.

A lot of this can be traced to the really odd relationship the game's director, Katsura Hashino, has to queer themes. In interviews about Catherine Fullbody (a game which infamously has a rather weirdly handled gay romance route which, however, is notably also the only romance route in the game that cannot possibly result in a bad ending), he talks about how he's always admired queer people for being "strong" and wanted to write queer stories, but couldn't really do it until Fullbody because Atlus higher ups were afraid of backlash from the fans.

Traces of this are actually seen in Persona 4 Vanilla's data, where remnants of a surprisingly well done romance route for YOSUKE, of all people, are still present. That route made it far enough into development to have voiced lines in both, English and Japanese. However, it was dummied out in the final game and its script content was removed. Yosuke STILL has the "girlfriend flag" in the code that all the female romance options also have, but in the finished game it only checks whether you can hug him during his social link or not. Everything else was dummied out. You can still find the voice files on the cutting room floor if you want:

And yes, the "I like you" line is unambiguously romantic in Japanese. His wording is very hard to misinterpret.

However, in the finished game and the rest of the franchise Yosuke's bisexuality was reduced to an in-joke of the developers. It's most poignant in Persona Q (the first one), where if you get the "marriage" scene with Yosuke in the second dungeon, his reactions differ WILDLY depending on which Protagonist you are playing as, far more than other male characters. With Makoto Yuki he acts nonchallant and deadpan about it. With Yu Narukami he acts like a blushy Tsundere and panics constantly. So, yeah.

Okay, so, if the director had interest in writing queer stories since before Persona 4, why is Persona 4 the way it is then?

Well, because - and there's no way around it - he sucks at it.

Katsura Hashino has to be one of the clumsiest "gay activists" I've ever seen in my whole darn life. He finds queer people "cool", but seemingly never had any queer writers or sensitivity readers on his teams and it's caused enormous blunders in how these themes have been handled. For example, when after Persona 3 it was pointed out to him that the writing of the female characters in interaction with the male characters was bad, he immediately hired more female writers and gave them free reign for how to handle the female characters from then on out. But apparently the same thing never happened with his mishandling of queer themes. He wants Catherine's Erica and Rin to be empowering figures for trans women and gay men, but makes a lot of blunders in how he has other characters interact with them to the point it buries his good intentions. Erica's boyfriend having gay panic upon realizing she's trans is treated as "funny and cute", even by Erica herself. Rin technically being a monogender alien really undermines his story of becoming more secure in his sexuality. It goes on and on like that.

The intention with Naoto's story was to point out the extreme sexism in Japanese society and how it forces female nerds to find alternate modes of self-expression, but the clumsy choice of including surgery themes in Naoto's dungeon completely buried that for especially western queer audiences. Most people don't even remember Naoto's dungeon was outright modeled after a Kamen Rider villain hideout. They completely shot themselves in the foot with this one. Additionally, the way Naoto is handled AFTER the dungeon makes her (I'm using that pronoun because she calls herself a "woman" in Japanese in the game) seem more like someone who's on the verge of discovering they are X-gender (the japanese word for "nonbinary") than a repressed girl. Like, right down to how she has Rise help her experiment with clothes in the canonical drama CDs only to realize she really is uncomfortable with skirts and go for an androgynous but less restrictive look going forward. The way she dresses in the Golden epilogue and P4D is pretty X-gender core if you ask me. If they had leaned into that they could have genuinely have had something AMAZING, while also presenting the themes of sexism they wanted to explore, but the lack of queer sensitivity readers kind of ruined it.

Same for Kanji. The way they write him makes it seem like he's bisexual or pansexual, rather than straight, but they kinda shove that part of him aside after his dungeon is done, leaving his actual orientation up in the air and wasting a really good chance for representation. NOW, given what happened to Yosuke's social link, it's quite possible the original intent WAS to explore this more and it got cut, but as it stands, we'll never know. The huge problem of the internalized toxic stereotypes his Shadow presented never being reflected on and put into their right context in the rest of the game, when his social link could've given a great opportunity for that is also a huge shame.

All of this happened because of Atlus being unwilling to let their writers go all out with queer themes in fears of alienating a cishet audience AND because Hashino never sat his writing team down with any actual queer writers to sort this shit out and learn how to get across what the team was ACTUALLY trying to say. Now, given, Persona 4 was far from the only Japanese media property with that exact issue at the time, but it hurts especially much in its case because of the game's themes of exploring the truth to its logical conclusion, as well as psychology. These are issues that a remake REALLY would do well to address and correct. I feel like they actually will HAVE to do that, because sensitivity readers have become the NORM in handling these themes now in Japanese media, rather than the exception. You can thank trail blazing mainstream works like Zombie Land Saga for that.

All in all, Persona 4's handling of queer themes is an exercise in frustration that I hope is corrected soon.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Words are hard and there are only so many Ways to misinterpret a Hug (chapters 15+16)

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Hey! A bit of a special one from me here! This was the WIP I got given to finish for @tsspromptmonth 's Spring Cleaning event! The first 14 chapters were already written by @mimssides and I (obviously) recommend that you go read them before reading my two. I'm only going to link to the Ao3 fic with this post, since I don't have the rest of the chapters but I really hope people enjoy this, the WIP I was given was great and I had a lot of fun working on it!

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| The Ao3 Link |

Fic summary (written by Eir):

Logan is professional. Logan is efficient. Logan does not do emotions.

That is at least the impression the Dark Sides have of him. But when things start to cool down after the wedding, they get to know another side of their teacher; the touchy and affectionate side.

And that leads to old feelings being revived and new ones to form.

Pairings: Analoceitmus,

Total Word count: 27,537

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess

[labellefrance]

Nonverbal Communication

Nonverbal communication is so important in not just intercultural communication, but any communication. It helps us express our feelings and thoughts without having to use words. It is necessary when communicating with other cultures so we are better able to understand and be understood for effective communication. The most common fear while traveling is making a mistake or being misinterpreted. By knowing how to read people's nonverbal cues, this can easily be avoided. Taking time to learn the nonverbals of another culture also shows respect and can help build trust with those around you. While understanding nonverbal communication is so important, it can be difficult. Cultural differences can be hard to know about before being submerged into the culture itself. While different cultures have varying nonverbals, individuals also have their own ways of expressing their nonverbals. So as much as someone is trying to learn about a culture beforehand, there are so many other ways it can be affected. Another reason it can be difficult to understand these nonverbals is because of mixed signals or people being able to conceal their emotions. Some people may want to conceal their true emotions and so reading their nonverbals becomes very difficult. There are many other ways that people communicate just through appearance. In France there are two major ways people communicate nonverbally, these are through attire or fashion and touch. In France there are certain dress codes that go along with events. As seen in many French films, when friends or colleagues get together for a dinner party they are shown wearing black ties or formal dresses. These dress codes are used to keep tradition as fashion has always been important in French cultures. France is also known for being very fashion forward and keeps up on the upcoming trends. However, French elegance is different from American elegance as women do not wear dramatic makeup or clothes that show off their bodies.Another common way people in France communicate is through touch. One of the most known ways people know of greeting someone in France is through a light kiss on each cheek known as “La bise”. Another difference in French touch culture is through the way people will address their elders. It is common to touch their hand or cheek as a sign of respect. In France they are known to be more comfortable than British or American people with the amount of personal space they give.Optilingo says “ They are comfortable with a distance of one foot, while British people normally stand about two feet apart”. We can also see that French people are more comfortable with being closer since they tend to kiss each other when meeting, whereas we tend to give a handshake or maybe a hug. Even though this may tend to make many Americans uncomfortable, I do not think I would have an issue interacting with other people in France. Since it is seen as a norm and only meant as a friendly greeting, I would be comfortable doing it around others.

In French culture time is seen very differently than American culture. According to Mila Phelps Friedl after living in France for several months she noticed that, “Opposite from American culture, French culture functions on poly-chronic time, preparing and partaking in multiple activities at once.” Another difference in French culture is that it is normal and preferred to be late. Hosts expect a little extra time in order to refresh themselves or the table, and it can be seen as rushing them if you show up on time. This is all very important to know so one does not seem rude or disrespectful unintentionally. Knowing things like this can avoid being criticized for things that may have been unintentional. For example it is not okay to eat on the streets. In America people are constantly eating on the go, but in French it is frowned upon to eat while walking on the street. If someone did not know this, they could run into problems that they did not intend on.

https://milaphelpsfriedl.wordpress.com/2018/06/13/culturally-influenced-expressions-of-femininity-in-french-and-american-cultures/

[talldarkandroguesome]

8th of Sun’s Dusk, Tirdas

The house is woefully quiet. It feels still as the grave and just as dour. The light seems to have slunk into the shadows. I completely overslept, having come to rely upon the sing-song voices of my daughters as a natural call to rouse. Without them, I slept deeply, the curtains having remained drawn.

Luayl woke me up looking very cross indeed. He told me that I could not simply mope about in bed without the girls and even now I should be preparing for his lessons. But I needed a moment to write.

Yesterday we had final farewells.  I showered them in gifts and their favorite dishes at meal times. I continued to allow them to pick out furnishings for their rooms. Generally just making them feel as at home as possible. I want them to feel as though they can express themselves in the design and contents of their rooms. It has to be hard living between parents in such a manner, so I want their space to feel like a safe place, somewhere as comfortable as possible.

The House would not allow me to bring Sildras with me to Valenwood to see the girls off. I think it is punishing him for their misinterpretation of my character. It is not fair to me, but far less so to him. He simply wants to see his sisters arrived safely to their mother. The Council is heartless.

Sildras and Kuna have agreed to send letters back and forth. Kuna promises to teach him Bosmeris and he has given his word that he will teacher her Dunmeris. I am very glad of this exchange, it will strengthen their relationship and give them both a better understanding of the language. It will be a useful tool for them both in future.

Cariel cried terribly when we said she had to leave. She clung, one hand to Sildras’ robe and one to my doublet. It was painful to see, worse to feel as though I had a hand in it. I tried to console her with the knowledge that she would be able to see her mother, grandmother, and great aunts once more. It did little to placate her, however. She wailed the whole way to the teleportation circle and even once we had arrived on the other side.

Nabine was there and glared at me horribly to arrive and see her youngest daughter so distraught. Immediately she snatched Cariel from me and started to yell. That only made Cariel bawl more and reached for me, even as Nabine began to walk away. Yelling at Kuna to hurry up and leave the “bad man” alone.

Kuna looked puzzled and Cariel begged me not to leave. She cried for Sidlras and I and Nabine looked down at her puzzled, even as she motioned for me to leave. As I walked back towards the teleportation circle, Cariel managed to wriggle from Nabine’s grasp and came running to me and  threw her arms around my leg and said she was not letting me leave. She wanted to go back home with me.

I knew this would only fuel Nabine’s ire and sure enough I could see her wrathful eyes as she turned and stalked back towards me, pulling Cariel from me.

I used a soothing voice to tell Cariel that she need not be sad, in just a few months, she and Kuna would be back again to spend time with her brother and I. That she should be happy to see her mother after being parted so long and that the family here who loved her was going to be so happy to see her return.

Nabine refused to look at me and simply told Cariel that she had her favorite stew going.

When Cariel slowed her crying to sniffles, I gave her a kiss and told her to be good for her mother and aunties and to listen to her sister. Kuna gave me a hug and then Nabine ushered them off.

My heart is wounded. I miss those girls. I can tell Sildras does, too. The excitement for his classes has diminished and he has less of an appetite. I suppose we both feel it. That missing part.

How many pieces of myself I have lost, scattered across Tamriel?

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you��ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

A lot of people say Gojo is a narcissist, faking being annoying, or incapable of feeling emotions/pretending he has emotions- it's really an incredible misinterpretation of his character to call him a sociopath/psychopath when he's actually just an ENTP. He's the most ENTP ENTP any ENTP has ever seen.

Just a little info: people with the ENTP personality type are extremely charismatic. They are often the center of attention with their quick wit and on point humour. You can see this with Gojo's antics and in your face behavior. However, ENTPs lack emotional sensitivity and are not afraid of expressing their disdain for topics such as tradition, which they discard quickly and easily, or any loose ideas they decide to debate on, which can leave people feeling offended or offput. They are Thinkers, with an underdeveloped feeling function (they are enTp not enFp) and are more likely to use logical reasoning when facing circumstances rather than their intuition or senses.

When it comes to friendships, ENTPs often enjoy people who can match their quick-witted nature. They need someone who can hold their ground during arguments and debates against him for mental stimulation. This makes ENTPs effective communicators, but many would find them to be extremely annoying or tiring to be around, especially because they are often unself-aware of how their words affect others. It's their natural tendency to argue and rebel against set ideas, whether it be for attention or to cure their own boredom that they express such so openly. They are confident even while speaking of their natural inclination to discard existing systems in society, leaving many infatuated with an ENTP's way with words. ENTP's just can't stand willful ignorance and tradition. However, many see this as pretentious of them. However, ENTPs don't argue for pleasure- it's simply the truth and they only ever debate ideas based on facts. Many people misunderstand this as egotism. We can see this when Gojo is constantly verbalizing his distate for the higher ups- he may act high and mighty, but his goal is always to prove his point and send a message across, which is that he cannot stand their archaic, inefficient way of handling things and if pushed, he will fight back. It's not him acting superior, he's simply stating fact, even if it offends the other person. As an ENTP, he simply has an undeveloped feeling function that prevents him from understanding his and others' emotions. Therefore, even if others are annoyed at what he has said, it's fine because it's only the truth, right? That explains why when Gojo had to ask his students if they would continue the exchange event even tho people had died, he was so nonchalant. See how him and ENTPs are so similar?

That said, when it comes to emotions, ENTPs are inclined to suppress their feelings. They're not known for their sensitivity no matter how much they understand the other person's position. When put in an emotional situation, despite being able to argue both sides of a topic, they are remarkably bad at putting themselves in other people's shoes. They also often misjudge others' feelings and push situations way past others' tolerance levels. We can tell Gojo is someone that most people cannot understand and vice versa- he was raised as the strongest, with many fearing his very existence. Therefore, he is even less inclined to be able to understand the emotional needs of other people. That is why he doesn't even realize Utahime hates him. He only thinks her bad attitude towards him is a joke (as said in Gege's fanbook. Shiro on Twitter has the translation). Most ENTPs don't even realize they're annoying to other people. They're just being themselves. Most people just struggle to handle such a person. This doesn't make Gojo an emotionless person- rather, he has feelings, but his natural tendency to suppress them in order to find a logical solution rather than put himself in another's shoes- something he's inherently bad at- infringes in his ability to understand other people.

Therefore, Gojo Satoru is not some emotionless psychopath or sociopath who's manipulative and narcissistic. He simply falls under a commonly misunderstood personality type called the ENTP, an mbti personality type. ENTPs only make up 3% of the population, making them one of the rarer personalities, which is why so many people can easily create misconceptions on his character. His enthusiasm and confidence in expressing his beliefs and attitude even if it annoys people is something many people can't stand, yes. He has a hard time understanding other people's emotions because he's more rational than intuitive, sure. But that doesn't make him a bad person. He's just one of a small group people on the planet who are dominated by logical thinking and debate, along with personalities like the INTP (Albert Enstein, for example) and the INTJ (Isaac Newton).

Gojo Satoru is a regular human being just like the rest of us, and he's not some philanderer who manipulates women and would cheat on them. ENTPs definitely struggle with commitment, but that's only because most people can't keep up with their constant need for intellectual stimulation rather than emotional. While they may find people who are incredibly emotionally sensitive to be intriguing at first, those relationships usually end with the ENTP realizing they would rather have an intellectual equal, like the INTP. They want to feel understood. However, the INTP's personality type only makes up for 3-5% of the population, which makes them, like the ENTP, misunderstood and commonly left feeling alone in the world. Similarly, Geto, the person who got the closest to Gojo, has the INTJ personality type, a thinking type that gets along most with the ENTP and only makes up 2% of the population, even less than the ENTP or INTP's rarity. Just from that, the person that would match Gojo's personality type is rare even statistically. Even so, Gojo himself doesn't even have time for sleeping around. The man hardly even sleeps much himself, he's so busy.

Source: a bunch of ENTP articles, threads, experiences, and other people's experiences.

Just wanted to clear that up, got tired of this Gojo slander lol 😖 Thanks for reading! Would love to hear any thoughts on this 💙 - 🤔 anon

OH MY GOLLY MOLLY 🤔 anon you are out educating the people YES YES I ABSOLUTELY AGREE wow reading this was such a learning experience yeet the people who think gojo is a psychopath. Gojo is just a really complex character and its understandable that some people don't understand trust me even I have my moments when writing when I struggle to keep him in character. I want to explore more sides to him yes the happy bubbly gojo but also the more emotionally oppressed gojo and other sides to him. I definitely agree he drives on logical thinking the dude literally wanted to have a debate on the separation of the state for fun. I am absolutely loving this and yes I am so tired of the gojo slander people don't judge a book by its cover 😤 that goes for other characters as well ☝️ really sorry for the late reply I LOVE YOU 🤔 ANON thank you so much for taking the time to explain 💙💙💙 virtual hugs 💗

[waitimcomingtoo]

Chemistry on the Couch

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

submitted by @elevenspeter

Masterlist

“You have a celebrity crush, don’t you Tom?” Graham instigated as he leaned forward curiously on his knee. Tom didn’t have to think twice to know who he was referring to. There was only one girl that had been living rent free in Toms mind since he was a child, and that was you.

“I do. Ever since I was little, I had the biggest crush on Y/n L/n, the actress.” Tom began with a shy smile. “And I mean the biggest crush. To the point where my parents had her movies playing on the TV all day long to keep me from crying. To this day, I could recite all her lines because I have seen it so many times.”

“That’s so cute.” Emily Blunt, another guest on the couch, gushed. “I bet she’d be happy to hear you fancied her.”

“And whats this I hear about kissing the TV?” Graham giggled to himself.

“I-“ ,Tom cut himself off to laugh in embarrassment as the rest of the audience laughed, “I was convinced she was my girlfriend so I would kiss the TV whenever she was on the screen.” He shrugged in his defense as the audience erupted into laughter. “It drove my dad mad because I got saliva all over the television but my mum thought it was sweet.”

“Aw.” Graham pouted. “So you were a big fan?”

“I was obsessed with that girl from the time I was five until I was about 31.” Tom confirmed.

“How old are you now?” Emily wondered.

“24.” Tom stated, eliciting a laugh from the audience.

“How adorable.” Graham looked out at the crowd with a deviant smile. “And that’s exactly what we told her when we asked her to be on the show tonight. Y/n, come on out.”

Tom’s heart stopped momentarily as Graham looked behind him and waved. His eyes slowly went up as the sound of high heels on tile sounded over the roar of the crowd.

“Oh no.” Tom gulped. Strapped into those high heels were mile long legs wrapped in a tight black dress, all topped off with your perfect face. Tom had spent years loving you through a screen, and now you were walking towards him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Y/n L/n!” Graham announced as you came out from backstage with a cheery smile. The audience became deafening as you walked towards the couch but Tom couldn’t hear a thing. His heart had yet to kickstart as he watched you with wide eyes.

“Hi!” You waved warmly to the crowd before hugging Graham hello. Tom looked down in disbelief as you made your way through the guests, hugging each one and greeting them hello. His heart pounded in his ears as you got closer and before he knew it, his life long crush was standing in front of him.

“Hi, Tom. I’m Y/n.” You smiled brightly as you opened your arms to him. Tom nearly jumped out of his seat and gulped as your eyes met his. It might’ve been the lights, but he could’ve sworn your eyes sparkled like they were coated in glitter.

“Yeah.” Tom sputtered, forgetting every word in the English language. The audience laughed at Toms stiffness, but you didn’t. You held his gaze and gave him an assuring smile, silently telling him to relax.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You continued, your arms still open to him. Tom snapped out of his daze and stepped into your arms, resting his head on your shoulder with a child like smile. He was convinced he was dreaming until your lightly curled hair was tickling his face as you embraced, telling him that this was really happening.

“It’s nice to meet you too, darling.” He mumbled happily in your ear. You pulled away but kept your hands on his shoulders, smiling brightly at him when you noticed how red his cheeks were.

“I like your accent.” You told him, keeping one hand on his shoulder as the both of you sat down. All that space on the couch and you chose the spot next to him, something that sent a flurry of butterflies into Toms tummy.

“I like yours too.” He said with a soft smile, never taking his eyes off you. He spent so many years watching you on his television screen, watching you grow up and mature, but nothing could prepare him for the beauty in front of him now. He was enchanted by you, everything about you, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. He was in a bright room full of people with multiple cameras on him, but all he could see was you.

“Thank you.” You giggled. “You’re Spiderman, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Tom nodded, mouth drying out. “You know about me?”

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t know about the cutest Spider-Man to date?” You nudged him slightly, his eyes staying glued to your arm as you touched him.

“Did everyone else hear that?” He looked out at the audience with doe eyes.

“We heard it.” Graham nodded with a laugh.

“Just making sure.” Tom beamed, still reeling from your compliment. You were the most heavenly creature to walk the planet in Toms opinion, and you thought he was cute. Just about every dream he had ever had was coming true all at once, and he was loving every second.

“Now Tom, we have a picture that your mother sent in. Look how cute.” Graham gushed as he turned to his monitor. A picture of a young Tom appeared and the audience, as well as all the guests on the couch, fawned over it. In the picture, he was kissing the TV that was paused on a scene from one of your movies. You laughed in delight and absentmindedly squeezed Tom’s hand.

“Aw. We already had our first kiss and I didn’t even know it.” You teased him, scooting a little closer to him on the couch. You hadn’t let go of his hand yet, but he wasn’t complaining.

“I am so sorry.” Tom shook his head in embarrassment and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Don’t be. As long as I know about the next one, I’ll be fine.” You shrugged, looking at him through your eyelashes. Tom gulped at the thought of a next kiss, especially if you were the one suggesting it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting with him.

“Now, you two have actually met before.” Graham said as he pointed between the two of you. You looked at Tom in confusion, letting go of his hand to brush a stay curl off your face.

“Have we?” You asked him. He nodded, trying not to let the disappointment of you letting go of his hand show on his face.

“Yeah. We met many years ago at the Secret Life of Arietty premier because you were in the American version and I was in the British version.”

“Oh My God!” Your eyes widened. “Wait, I do remember you! You were so sweet.”

“Was I? I wouldn’t know, I blacked out.” Tom joked, making you laugh cheerfully.

“Tom’s mother graced us with a home video. Now, this was taken after the premier right?” Graham asked as he turned his attention back to the monitor behind him.

“Oh, God.” Tom sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. “This was after the premier when I could not stop bouncing off the walls because I met you. I think my parents recorded it specifically to embarrass me in front of Y/n one day.”

“Lets take a look, shall we?” Graham asked the audience as the home video began to play.

“Who did you meet?” You heard Tom’s mother’s voice from behind the camera. On the screen was a grainy video of teenage Tom, clad in a shiny suit and wide grin. His face was splashed with freckles and acne, he had a mole on his chin, and his teeth hadn’t quite straightened out yet, but you thought he was the cutest thing imaginable.

“I met Y/n!” He gushed, taking a deep breath as if he still didn’t believe it. He was pacing around his kitchen, slightly loosening his neck tie as he went.

“Yay!” He mom cheered. “Where did you meet her?”

“We were at the Secret Life of Arietty premier and she came up to me and she hugged me and we took a picture and she was so pretty.” He rambled, all his words coming out in one breath. You laughed loudly at the video, resting your hand on Tom’s knee as you continued to watch.

“What did she say to you?” His mom asked from behind the camera.

“She said she likes my accent!” He practically screamed as he tugged on his tie. “She said she likes my accent when hers is so pretty. She’s so pretty.”

“Yay! Tommy’s so excited. He just met his dream girl.” His mom chuckled.

“Mum, did you see me? Did you see her hug me?” Tom asked as he bounced up and down. “She smelled so good. Like Christmas.”

The video faded to black and the monitor turned off, the audience clapping as it concluded.

“That was so cute! Tom, I’m gonna die.” You pouted, turning to him and squeezing his knee.

“Please don’t die. We’re just getting to know each other.” Tom laughed, putting his hand over yours and squeezing it. He was never normally this bold, especially not with girls he fancied since childhood, but something about you gave him a confidence he didn’t hate.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so excited.” You gushed, your own flock of butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“I’m having the exact same reaction right now, just internally.” He gestured to himself, making you laugh.

“Really?” You asked, liking his attention more than you thought you would.

“Obviously.” He laughed. “I had the biggest crush on you growing up.”

“I think I have a crush on you now.” You half joked, half meant entirely.

“Oooo, looks like we have a love connection on the couch tonight.” Graham wiggled his eyebrows. “So Y/n, Tom’s seen all your movies. Have you seen his?”

“No, I haven’t.” You shook your head and looked at Tom.

“I have copies back in my hotel room if you want to see them.” He said innocently, not wanting the interaction to end after the show was done.

“How bold of you, Tom.” Graham snorted, making the audience murmur with excitement.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom said quickly, not wanting to offend you. His cheeks were bright red as the crowd misinterpreted his statement. You felt bad for him and shut him up before he could apologize further.

“I know you didn’t.” You patted his arm. “Can we watch them after the show? I’d love to see you in action.”

“You want to?” He asked in surprise, face heating up once again.

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded. “I want to see your work.”

“You hear that Tom? She wants to see you in action.” Graham said wickedly, also trying to start trouble.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re a host, not a match maker.”

“Why can’t the man be both?” Tom shrugged, not particularly mad at the flirting that was going on.

“Careful there, Spiderman.” You warned. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish?” Tom shot back, feeling confident enough to test his luck with you.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?” You gave him a once over as you leaned back on the couch.

“Tonight?” He furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what you meant.

“In your hotel room.” You said simply. “I meant what I said. I wanna see you in action.”

“Okay.” Tom swallowed thickly, trying not to show how nervous he was. “I’ll show you my movies.”

“Awesome.” You smiled brightly at him. “It’s a date.”

~

“This is my room.” Tom said unenthusiastically as he turned on the lights in his hotel room. “If you see boxers on the floor, they’re not mine.”

“Then who’s are they?” You snorted. “Are you and Jake Gyllenhaal filming Broke Back Mountain 2 without telling anyone?”

“No, no. They’re mine.” Tom quickly corrected. “And don’t bring up Broke Back Mountain around me. I had no idea what it was about before I watched it and I still can’t look at fishing rods without blushing.”

“You’re too cute.” You laughed at him as you slid out of your high heels.

“Thanks.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “I’m gonna get the movie ready.”

“I’ll be right there. I just have to get out of this dress.” You called from the bathroom. “Are you okay with me wearing the hotel robe? I promise I won’t get any makeup on it. Not on the outside, at least.”

“Here. This might be more comfortable.” Tom appeared in the doorway with a hoodie and a pair a sweatpants.

“Thanks.” You smiled warmly at him as you took the clothes. “I won’t get makeup on this either.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t mind if you did.” He shrugged it off. “It’d be a nice little reminder of you.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes wander around Toms face, appreciating every line and freckle. He was awfully sweet, and you found that awfully compelling.

“Do you have any face wash?” You asked him, snapping out of your trance before you got pulled in too deep.

“I have soap.” He offered, pointing to a bottle of Dove on the counter.

“You’re such a boy.” You laughed and ran your fingers through your curls. “I’ll just leave this on then.”

“That’s not so bad. Your makeup looks really nice.” He said quietly as he kept his eyes low.

“Thanks. I’ll let my makeup artist know you like it.” You smirked at him as you walked towards the mirror, beginning to gather your hair in a ponytail.

“I’m not so sure it’s the makeup that I like.” He shrugged as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s what’s underneath.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked a little insecurely, looking at him in the mirror as loose curls fell out of your ponytail to frame your face.

“I’ve thought you were pretty since I learned to spell “pretty.”” Tom chuckled, scratched the back of his neck as he shyly watched you.

“Aren’t you dyslexic? I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago.” You teased him endearingly.

“Hey.” He whined playfully. “How did you know I was dyslexic?”

“I might have googled you.” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact as you applied some chapstick in the mirror.

“Did you now?” He asked, taking an even deeper interest in the conversation.

“I googled all the guests that were gonna be on the show.” You shrugged as a light blush painted your cheeks.

“Oh.” Tom nodded, looking away disheartened.

“Don’t sound too disappointed.” You laughed. “Your dyslexia didn’t show up on the first page of google. I did some digging on you.”

“Oh.” He said again in a completely different tone. This time, he was intrigued. You walked away from the mirror and met Tom in the doorway, leaning your arms against the frame as you smiled at him.

“I’m gonna get changed now.” You told him. “Save me a seat.”

“Okay.” He bit his tongue excitedly, giving you a once over before turned to walk to the bed.

“Wait, Tom?” You called putting for him once he was out of sight.

“Yeah?” He came back with concerned eyes. You smirked slightly as him before turning around and touching the back of your neck.

“Unzip me?” You asked, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. Toms chest tightened, feeling a shortness of breath before nodding his head. The way you were looking at him made him forget how to complete an action as simple as raising his hand, but a simple tug of your lips into a smile restored his confidence. He cleared his throat and snapped out of his trance, smiling shyly at you as he nodded.

“Sure.” He mumbled, hesitantly reaching up and grabbing your zipper. He slowly dragged it down your back, a blush painting his cheeks when the lacy black band of your bra was revealed. He pulled the zipper to the end, stopping at the bottom of your spine.

“Thanks.” You turned around slowly and shot him a wink.

“Anytime.” He answered, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He touched a cool hand to his cheek, trying to draw away some of the heat.

“I might have to take you up on that.” You shrugged a shoulder, knowing full well what you were doing. Tom caught the double meaning of your statement and felt his face redden from the bridge of his nose all the way to the tips of his ears. You smiled slyly at him before closing the door so you could change.

Tom put the disc in the DVD player and got settled on bed, awkwardly shifting the sheets as he waited for you to join him. It didn’t take long before he heard the bathroom door opening, doing a double take when he noticed you hadn’t bothered with the sweatpants he gave you. His eyes were glued to your bare legs that peeked out from the bottom of his hoodie as you made your way towards the bed.

“Nice stems.” Tom quoted a favorite movie of his as you sat on the bed next to him.

“I thought it might be a little too hot for sweatpants.” You said without looking at him, ostentatiously crossing your legs just to give Tom another look.

“I see.” He gulped, sneaking glances at you every now and then as the movie started.

A few silent moments went by as you paid attention to the movie, not taking particular attention to the parts when Tom wasn’t on screen. His heart beat loudly in his ears as that scene in the alleyway came on, keeping a close eye on your reaction. He heard you suck in your breath when the suit slid off, feeling a twinge of pride as an impressed look crossed your face. You scooted a little closer to Tom, running nervous fingers through your curled hair.

“Well damn.” You laughed shyly. “I’ve never seen someone look as good out of a suit as they look in it.”

“Was that a compliment?” Tom looked at you cheekily. “Are you complimenting me, darling?”

“Would you be mad if I was?” You asked softly. The corners of Toms mouth tugged into a smile as he scooted closer as well.

“Not at all.” He shook his head, the movie long gone from his mind. You took this as an opportunity to move even closer to Tom, your hips touching each other now as your bare legs tangled with his clothed ones. You twisted a little in place, leaning into his side as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, rubbing his arm gently as you looked up at him.

“Darling, this is just fine.” He answered, resting a hand on your knee and rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“Good.” You smirked, cuddling into his side and resting your head in the crook of his neck. Tom kept his eyes on you, feeling like he was gonna wake up any moment from what surely was a dream. Your attention snapped to him, making him jump a little as you made eye contact.

“Stop staring.” You scolded playfully. “I’m trying to pay attention.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Tom chuckled, moving his arm so he could wrap it around you and hold you closer. You stayed like that for the rest of the movie, just enjoying the embrace of a stranger who really wasn’t that strange at all.

~

“What did you think? Did you like it?” Tom asked as he walked you to the elevator once the film had ended. You had your arm linked in his, wearing his sweatpants now as your evening together was coming to an end. He walked slowly, trying to draw out his time with you.

“I didn’t watch it.” You chuckled as you answered honestly. “Any of it.”

“Then what have you been doing the last two hours?” He wondered.

“Looking at you.” You smiled shyly. “Only when you weren’t looking, of course.”

“That’s funny.” Tom mumbled as he brushed a curl off your face. “Because all the times you weren’t looking at me, I was looking at you.”

You reached the elevator and felt a sadness in your heart, knowing this was the end of an enchanting evening.

“I promise I’ll watch your movie when I get home.” You told him as you waited for the elevator to come. “And all your other movies. I might stalk you on Instagram too. Do you have Twitter?”

“I do.” He nodded. “If you follow me, I might react the same way I did in that home video you saw. Maybe even worse.”

“I wish I could see that. I bet it’s even cuter now than it was back then.” You smiled, trying to prolong the conversation as much as you could. The elevator dinged, signaling that it was there, but you didn’t budge. You just pressed your back against the wall next to it and looked at Tom as you spoke.

“I bet it’s just as lame though.” He shrugged, playing with one of the ties on the hoodie.

“I think it’s sweet.” You said softly, putting your hand over his. “I think you’re sweet.”

A radiant smile lit up Toms face as he looked down, feeling fireworks in his chest going off with your words. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of your head, leaning forward and fitting his face into the crook of your neck to conceal his blush. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug and letting it linger to say goodbye.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna need your number so we can arrange a time for me to get this hoodie back to you.” You said as you pulled apart, keeping on hand on his shoulder as he hovered over you.

“You see, I’m torn darling.” Tom shook his head. “I want you to keep the hoodie but I also want to see you again.”

You bit your bottom lip and held out your hand, gesturing that you wanted him to hand you something.

“Give me your phone.”

“Okay.” Tom agreed as he pulled it out of his pocket, not even questioning why you needed it. You took his phone from him, smiling at the picture of him and his friends that he used as his background.

“I put my number in.” You told him as you handed it back. “Use it.”

“I will. I promise you I will. I just have to gawk at it for a few hours first until every thing that happened tonight really sinks it.” He joked, making you laugh loudly as the elevator dinged again, rushing you were you just weren’t ready yet.

“Are you gonna come down with me?” You nodded towards the elevator, wanting every second with him you could get.

“After you.” Tom held the door open so you could step inside, going in shortly after you.

“I had a really good time tonight.” You said once the doors closed. “I said that already but, you know, I mean it.”

“So did I.” Tom nodded, sneaking glances at you as the floors climbed down, going much faster than he liked. “A really, really good time.”

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Thanks for existing or whatever.” Tom mumbled as he scratched behind his ear and averted his eyes. You giggled happily, giving him one last look as you reached the lobby. The elevator doors opened, but you didn’t get out. You hit the button that closed the doors and turned to Tom, ignoring the confused look on his face as you rested your hands on his chest.

“You know, since you’ve so kindly gifted me your hoodie, it’s only fair I leave you with something.” You suggested with a sultry smile.

“Trust me, darling. The memories are enough for me.” He said as he shyly rested his hands on your hips. You moved your hands further up his chest, letting them rest on his shoulders as you pressed up against him.

“Then let’s make one more.” You whispered, looking between his eyes and his mouth before connecting his lips to yours.

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[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

���You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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[octania]

Nicolas Brown x Reader HEADCANONS

Word count: 1.7 k

Warings: smut, nsfw

Short description : How Nicolas would treat his s/o. His experience with women and ways of dealing with them in general. His way of seducing, falling in love, fucking... all the beautiful and sexy parts that come with this man.

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His behavior has unfortunately often been misinterpreted because of his deadly abilities and sharp exterior, so it is no wonder that there are opinions of him not being able to understand and gain something like tender woman’s touch. His predatory gaze, strong hands mastering the katana as if it was a part of his body, movements of the speed of light that the prey does not even know it was mutilated the first few second... are not credible descriptions of his true personality.

From a young age, Nicolas knew nothing more than suffering, his body only knew multiple tortures and his eyes absorbed only barbarism. But instead of such an environment resulting in the destruction of his benevolent feelings, it only made him lock them deep inside, because feelings are a weakness, an Achilles heel, and someone in his kind of business can’t afford it.

 Even the biggest problem lay not in his reluctance to show his warm side, in fact, his constant concern for the weaker and going out of his frames of personality, which he normally shows only to cover those in need with his steel body, but his vast belief is that he is worth nothing, that he is just a killing machine and nothing more. He does not present his deepest sufferings and low opinion of his worth in front of others, he does not seek attention, because who could see anything more than a beast, when he himself sees nothing else?

Therefore, when his dark eyes would finally show interest in someone in a way that had been marked as impossible for him, the Pandora's box of his torments would open. Nicolas would watch you from afar, calm, curious, absorbing your every move and words from your lips, drowning in an unfamiliar sea of ​​feelings rising in his strong chest.He wouldn't understand what was going on, why you aroused so much interest in him, but he knew he enjoyed every moment when you were in front of his eyes.  

It is interesting that from the beginning he would not look at you lustfully as men otherwise do. Not because he has no desire to run his big palms along the lines of your body, to cross along the soft parts that would wake up a different kind of beast in him, no, but because your personality is more interesting to him than your naked body for now, after all, that's what made you different from everyone else and made him come out of his darkness that dwell in his mind and approach the light he had believed for so long that it would not shine for him. 

You would have your own private body guard, and you wouldn't even know it. He would follow you when he was able to, merging with the shadows of the roofs in his black suit, footsteps as light as a cat's, eyes glued to you. But Nicolas isn’t a stalker, he doesn’t do this because he needs to feed his deranged desire to watch you, he just wants to make sure you’re safe. The city you live in has claws on every corner, and you wouldn't even be aware of how many times he stopped the scum lurking from the dark corners with his massive body, going straight for the throat, his katana slicing every danger that dared come near you. 

The progress of your relationship would go painfully slow due to his “low value of his life” philosophy. Also, Nicolas would never ask for help from others around him, he keeps his problems to himself. Furthermore, he doesn't even need advice, he knows how to approach a woman, he knows better than anyone how to treat one, even though he the list of his lovers was not long because no one showed the deeper side to him that made him feel the way he feels for you, how a drop of water on his palm is nothing compared to how he would treat you if he managed to expresses his true feelings.

A person who never had a gentle touch on his cheek, when finally given the opportunity, becomes devoted to his partner for life. You would literally become his reason for living. The power you would have over him was unexplainable. He would run to you like a wounded puppy every time you two are apart, showing only to you his true colors. And those are a kind, loyal, caring man that desires nothing more than to hold you glued on his muscular chest, his broad shoulders and strong back like a mountain leaning over you to protect you from the world, closing his eyes and absorbing the soft touch on his skin like dry ground absorbs the water.  The only problem is, he didn't see how someone as perfect as you would even look at someone like him, a wild animal.

His distorted view of himself is what creates the problem, and once you finally realize what the obstacles are in the way of your relationship and decide to give him signs that make it clear how you feel, you would hit the jackpot, but again, in time.

Why isn’t the list of his lovers long? Believe me, it is not because Nicolas did not have chances. Even thought he is a high ranked Twilight, his sharp jaw line, tempting deep dark eyes, muscular torso that is not so well hidden under that white shirt that expresses his stone hard biceps even more, and the mysterious vibes he radiates, makes him more than desirable. Women would love to have him between their legs to feel all that might, drain him from his passionate and sexual gifts. But Nicolas does not find the pleasure of taking on one night stands, doing something meaningless just for the cheap pleasure of the body. Far from the fact he does not have that needs, he does, deep and wild  ones actually, and that is the pure reason why he does not indulge in them with strangers for a quickie. He wants a woman who will give as much as he gives her, and make him feel more than just his blood hitting his lower body. The mixture of passion and desire is what he wants, and the one who will get it will discover just how crafty he really is in the sheets.

 After approaching you slowly, being there first as an acquaintance, making his way up to “a friend” when he always was there when you needed some help, acting like he is doing it just because, nothing more, but his act would fall as a house of cards every time you would smile and thank him, then he would nervously scratch the back of his head, wave his hand at you to show you “it was nothing” then leave. But surprise, surprise, he would be there the next day, “by coincidence” passing by places you are at, because he has a job nearby.

The thing that would push him to finally make the crucial step , would probably be jealousy or quarrel. Seeing you getting hit on by other men and fearing he would lose you, made him act on instinct, hunt down the thing you need, but this time with your heart. But, the most likely, he would seal the deal when you two would have a first argument that included your safety. When he politely tried to talk you out of (sign you) something that seemed dangerous to him. When you would not listen and the argument would started to heat up and you would just try to leave, he would grab onto your forearm, firmly but with caution, pulling you back and crashing his lips on yours. His heart pounding in his ears, body tensed as his warm lips finally give away his state of heart and mind. The cutest thing would be, when you actually return the kiss, pushing your fingers into his raven hair, his eyes would open in shock, like he did not expect it, but soon would close again in delightful feeling that he did not know till now, and he locks you into a hug that radiates safety and devotion.

 When it comes to sex, Nicolas is the man who’s talents make you believe he has a gift of God. Not only that his other senses got sharper because of his inability to hear, so his eyes and hands find the sensitive spots you even did not know you had, feeling how your body reacts, from the vibration of your moans and tensing and shivering of your body to his huge dick reaching the points inside you that no one else before him did.

 His hands would rest on your throat, absorbing your moans through the waves of your voice on your skin. They would travel from your tits to your ribs and abdomen, so he can feel the pleasure consuming you and pouring out of you through the movements of your body.

He would explore your every inch with his lips, to find all of the sweet sports that he will use to make you insane. His fingers would fill your mouth so he can feel when you bite on them from the raging satisfaction when he fucks you, so he learns what gets you crazy fast, using it against you every time.

Needless to say, his dick matches his body, so you better believe he is big. His thick delight about 8.5 inches long, the veins popping out, filling his tip with blood, making it pulsate and ready for action. And once he is in, believe that no one will be able to fill you the same way as him.

There is one tricky thing. Nicolas likes it rough, but is aware of how strong he is, so he stays careful, holding back sometimes so his insanely strong thrusts do not break you. But he is a slave to your teasing, when you ask him to speed up, shaping his name with your rosy lips and licking them to show him just how much you want to be fucked like his little whore. His hands crush upper part of the bed as he grips it with his full strength, speeding up his slams, but still being on guard. It is just a matter of your provocation to see how far he will go.

Another cute thing about Nicolas is, he uses protection, well at least he tries to before you demand his bare meat in you. Why he does it? Because he is caring and wants you to always be protected, even in this way, to show how much he respects you and your decisions. Also, he will not argue when you show him that you want his flesh naked on yours, his thick cock buried inside your warm cunt without any rubbers to fuck up the feeling.

So, to sum up, Nicolas Brown does not lack experience or knowledge how to treat or please a woman, in fact, he is a golden ticket to a train of guaranteed happiness. But to find that valuable pearl of his emotions you have to go through the hard surface of that shall of his, made of his believes that he is not worthy of a happy ending. But hay, to win a priceless treasure, it is worth the hard work.

If you want to support my work, you can leave me a small tip on Ko-fi 💖 . It is highly appreciated. 🥺 😍

[nomazee]

always (coming back to) you

pairing: hinata shoyo x gn reader  genre: best-friends-to-lovers/coming of age (?) warnings: mild angst, slight spoilers for the manga timeskip word count: 1.4k

hinata shoyo loves a lot, but it’s always been you.

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(note: this was sitting in my google docs for a while now. it’s something i looked back on every once in a while and smiled because i think this is one of the works i’m most proud of. i love shoyo as a character so much and i love writing about him and twisting him as i see fit to write narratives upon narratives about him. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys :)  thank you to @bearykei for beta-reading this! it was interesting to have someone with such a drastically different writing style beta-read my work and i really enjoyed seeing all your edits :0 thank you so much mwah)

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Hinata Shoyo loves you. 

He found this newfound feeling to be odd, at first. It made his chest ache a little bit, but it was a good kind of ache—the kind of ache that comes after spiking a volleyball really good. The kind of ache that rushes through his body after a grueling night of practice. The kind of ache that reminds him of all the hard work he’s put into the things he loves. 

Shoyo loves, he loves so hard, and it’s something he can’t help. It’s a trait that’s been wired into his brain since he was born—flooding through squishy, tiny baby fingers and a mind not yet exposed to all the world has to offer. 

Shoyo loves his mom, loves his sister, loves volleyball, and loves you. He’d never be able to rank these things—if he ever called anything his “favorite” he’d be too guilty to function. But he knows, definitely, absolutely, certainly, that he loves these things—and he loves them very much. 

Hinata Shoyo loves you. 

He first experiences this in his last year of junior high, sitting in the grass (it’s damp from last night’s rain, but he ignores your complaints about it), half-melted popsicle in hand as he talks to you about volleyball—because that’s all his world is at this point in his life. Barely passing school, and volleyball (the former is only there to keep the latter going.) 

“And I want to get better,” he tells you. You’ve heard this so many times before, and he knows you have, but not once have you ever complained about it. “I’m short, but I’m good. I know I am.” 

“I know you are, too,” you tell him. He spares a glance at you, and your eyes are shining, your attention all on him, sticky fruit-popsicle melting down the side of your hand. You don’t seem to mind it, though (ironically enough, with you complaining about the wet grass just before.) 

Something stirs in his lungs, circulates like spinning tumbleweeds (like the ones he sees in those weird American cartoons that he watches with you,) and it makes him ache, but it feels good. You’ve complimented him tons of times before. He’s not sure what makes this so different, what makes this sudden pain kick up in his system. Shoyo looks at you, really looks, and he doesn’t think anything is different, actually. Everything is the same. 

He brushes it off, and even when the pain comes back every time he sees you, he pointedly ignores it. 

Hinata Shoyo loves you. 

He realizes this in his last year of high school. You’re sitting on the same patch of grass you’ve always sat in, though it’s no longer damp, nor are there any popsicles to be found. It’s quiet, it has been for a minute, and when Shoyo looks at you, there are shattered silver stars gleaming in your eyes. 

You’re hurting. And he knows it’s because of him, because he told you he wants to leave the country, because he told you he wants to leave you (whether that be an intentional desire or not), because this marks the end of innocent adolescence, and the beginning of dreary adulthood and sole self-reliance. 

Shoyo’s lips part. He’s clumsy with words of consolation. He’s only known how to brush things off with playful distractions and make weird volleyball metaphors, but he doesn’t know… this. He doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. With the ever-aching feeling swirling in his diaphragm. 

“I can…” He pauses. “I don’t have to go—” 

“Are you insane?” You’re bordering on a shout when you whip your head towards him, brows furrowed in what looks to be aggravation and eyes wide in disbelief. He blinks at you. All of this is unfamiliar, every aspect of this conversation—the look in your eyes, the crease between your eyebrows, the anger in your voice, the fear and sadness that had planted itself in your expression just moments before. Shoyo is treading knee-deep in unfamiliar waters and he doesn’t know what to do with the violent tides that sweep beneath his feet. 

“I would— I would never hold you back from your dreams, Shoyo,” you spit at him. The meaning of your words is well-placed, but the tone of your voice makes his eyes widen in fear and his form shrink back. “Never. I’m your b—est friend, and this is what you’ve fought for your whole life. I wouldn’t hold you back from this just because of some stupid, selfish wish.” 

The force behind your voice crumbles, tears welling up in those shattered-silver-stars as your expression twists—it’s ugly, and it’s raw. A sob escapes you and God, Shoyo has never felt so strongly for something in so long.

He breaks. He sobs. You fall into each other’s arms, clutching onto one another desperately as if that will keep Hinata Shoyo from flying away. 

(It doesn’t.) 

(Shoyo never asks you what your stupid, selfish wish was all about.) 

Hinata Shoyo loves you. 

He tells you this after years of waiting. He doesn’t tell you this at the airport when he leaves for Brazil, or in the one visit he took back to Japan during his time playing beach volleyball on the other side of the world. He doesn’t tell you this during the calls you share with him in his early mornings and your afternoons. He waits, because Hinata Shoyo has learned how to wait. 

Shoyo has landed himself a place on a professional volleyball team. You’ve voiced your elation over this fact countless times, over calls and text and blurry selfies of you with tears in your eyes and a stupid, wide smile on your face. Work has been busy for you, but when he tells you “Come to my game, it’s a big one. I’m seeing Tobio again,” you don't hesitate for a second to call in sick and buy a ticket. 

(It’s expensive, and when Hinata finds out how much you paid for it he chastises you playfully, claiming that he would’ve gotten you a ticket for free.) 

He wins. Of course he wins. Shoyo flies and laughs and plays and he wins. He catches your eye in the crowd after the game ends and he smiles, reserved for you and you only, and you can’t help but smile back. 

You meet him hours after his game ends—interviews and cleaning up and whatnot take an awfully long time. You both sit on a park bench, having walked quietly side-by-side for half an hour until he reached a spot he deemed perfect for the evening. 

It’s not the same patch of grass you both used to sit in, but it’s something, and you think Shoyo is more than enough to make up for the lack of a familiar atmosphere. It’s a bit cold, but you think it’s a shame you remembered your jacket—glancing at Shoyo, you find that he looks so much warmer than the fabric you’re wearing. 

Shoyo is glancing at you too, soft smile and warm eyes and gentle flush and all, and his head is ringing loudly trying to process every detail of your presence. 

Hinata Shoyo loves you. 

(God, he loves you so much. So he tells you.)

It’s a very simple ordeal. 

You open your mouth, and he thinks you’re starting to say something like “that was a good game!” or any other mundane praise, and he knows that he should let you speak. But he’s been building up this adrenaline for years now, and nothing can stop him when he says “I love you” in that gentle tone he reserves just for you. 

You stop talking. Shoyo thinks that maybe a rejection is coming soon, but he can’t bring himself to be so upset about it. Because he did it—did what he’s been yearning to do ever since that one afternoon in his last year of high school, and the thought alone makes him invincible to whatever comes out of this very spontaneous confession. 

He tilts his head towards you. You’re staring at him. He smiles again, wide and unabashed and warm. He feels your warm lips on his and he knows he should push you away for the sake of his PR team. But, God, Hinata Shoyo is invincible right now, and getting caught in some mundane “scandal” misinterpreted by the media is the least of his concerns right now. 

(Hinata Shoyo loves you. 

He tells you, now, in subtle ways, like the way he drags his fingers against your face when you’re still sleeping, the way he kisses your temple in half-hazy consciousness, and the way he traces the ring on your left ring finger with his lips.) 

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taglist: @akaashi-bby @tsukisemi @peteunderoos @virgomooning @losertsukki @vhskenma @alysken @webworld @tendo-sxtori​ @tanakas-hugs-and-kisses​ @wompwomphq @shehellamad (strikethrough cannot be tagged!)

[cakesunflower]

Inevitable [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: What was meant to be the best day of Adeline’s life took an unexpected turn, and so running out of her wedding only to walk into a bar owned by her high school ex-boyfriend seemed like some kind of act of fate. Heartbreak, nostalgia, and lingering love had quite a time coming together to bring the inevitable.

A/N: YEEET this is my bartender!Calum x runaway bride!OC one shot that i started writing literally mONTHS ago. it’s a whopping 27,299 words so sit back and enjoy the words. hehe happy reading!

        The one good thing about New York City was despite it being full of so many people, no one really looked at anyone else twice. Or, well, maybe they did but they were quick to go back to minding their own business, not particularly caring of what some stranger in a bustling city looked like or was doing. Adeline was grateful for those kinds of people, especially in this moment, as she wandered down the street in aching heels and a dress with tulle that dragged behind her as she went. The loud city and hundreds of people surrounding her worked hard in occupying her mind, but her thoughts and memories of just an hour before were much louder.

        “—nervous about getting married?”

        Adeline paused as she picked up on the voice of Keith, her fiancé’s best friend since high school. She’d managed to sneak out of the bridal suite, somehow slipping past her best friends and finding herself in the small room that held vending machines. The ceremony was just moments away from starting but Adeline, who’d watched what she ate for months to fit into her dress, was in dire need of a snack. So she found the vending machine room in the hotel, popped in some change and got herself a small packet of M&Ms. Not exactly a meal, but it’d suffice for now.

        Who the fuck knew her little escapade would lead her to overhearing something that would ruin what was to be the happiest day of her life.

        “No,” Ian, her fiancé, responded after a droll snort. “Pretty excited, honestly.” His response had a small smile curling at Adeline’s lips, putting some ease at her own jitter nerves. “All that money her aunt left her? Can’t wait to get my hands on it, man. Adeline didn’t even make me sign a prenup or anything, which she’ll end up regretting.”

        Adeline blinked, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach as her lips parted in disbelief over what she was hearing. For a moment, she wanted to believe that she was somehow mishearing or misinterpreting Ian’s words, but that voice that had been gnawing at the back of her mind for the past few months was louder than ever before, screaming at her that it was right in its suspicions over Ian. The man she loved, or thought she did, had become someone completely different from when they first got engaged five months ago—and from when Adeline came into her Aunt Lorraine’s money after she passed away two months ago.

        It had been a devastating loss to Adeline, since her Aunt Lorraine was the only living relative she had. Her parents had died when she was young, no grandparents to take her in, save for Aunt Lorraine, who was her mom’s older sister and the only sibling from either of her parents’ side. Lorraine wasn’t married nor did she have kids of her own, but she took in Adeline and raised her. She was a wealthy woman, able to provide for Adeline no matter what, and losing her had been unbearable, wondering how the universe could be so cruel to take away the only family Adeline had ever known.

        She almost canceled the wedding, unable to go through with it without her Aunt Lorraine walking her down the aisle, but Ian had convinced her to do so. For Lorraine.

        Adeline was realizing, with her stomach churning in disgust and anger and grief, that Ian wanted to do so for Lorraine’s money.

        God. She should’ve noticed the change. She should’ve listened to herself when she started getting doubts about marrying Ian—but she’d chalked it up to nerves. She thought her moments of doubt when she’d ask herself if this was what she really wanted were just that—doubts. Because she loved Ian, didn’t she? They’d been together for three years, how could she so easily just want to throw away a relationship for that long?

        Adeline had felt guilty for even having those thoughts in the first place. But hearing Ian’s words right now, words that were telling her he only wanted her for money, washed away the guilt. She’d always had more money than him, thanks to her own job as well as being raised by Lorraine, and over the years Adeline had become blind and deaf to Ian’s remarks and insecurities pertaining to it. He’d always been stuffed about her making more than him, about her having more. But, shit, she didn’t expect for it to be this much of a big deal. She didn’t expect it to create a deceitful relationship.

        Her body tensed, clenching the M&Ms she had in her hand, as her jaw worked and the disappointed, dull ache in her chest transformed into fiery anger. She glared at the door that Ian was on the other side of, her back straightening with newfound resolution. She couldn’t regret not getting a prenup if she didn’t get married.

        Adeline glanced down at her feet. She wondered just how far she could run in these heels before her feet gave out.

        A blaring horn passing by jolted Adeline back into the present, blinking as she realized she was no longer at the hotel, but in the streets of downtown Manhattan. Adeline sucked in a breath, feeling the familiar burn in her eyes and grinded her teeth together as she kept moving, weaving her way through the other pedestrians. She knew it was normal to tear up in this circumstance, no fault in mourning over the absolute death of what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but she didn’t want to.

        She refused to cry. Her heart was heavy, her throat was dry and her head hurt but she refused to cry. She wasn’t going to waste her tears on a man who didn’t deserve them. But it would be a lie to say she didn’t wish Aunt Lorraine was here to help her through it.

        Adeline almost mistook a drop of water on her cheek as a tear that may have escaped her eye, but then the familiar growl of thunder rumbled through the sky, and Adeline looked up exasperatedly at the sight of the greying clouds gathering above the skyscrapers. Looking around, she noticed some people duck out to get cover, others pulling out umbrellas, and Adeline let out a groan. Today truly was proving to be utter shit.

        And then it started drizzling, and Adeline cursed as she gathered the skirt of her dress—praising herself for not going with too much puff—and picked up her pace, looking around for a safe haven she could pass the time in. So when her eyes landed on a neon sign that read Sensation, registering that it was a bar, Adeline decided she could use a drink or two to put her out of her misery and hastily approached the door.

        She stumbled in just when the rain began picking up, her skin and dress only slightly wet, catching the attention of the few souls scattered around the bar. And why wouldn’t she? She was practically glimmering in the beaded bodice of her dress, the sparkle of her makeup and glittering jewelry. Utterly standing out in the atmosphere of the bar with brick walls and band posters, classic rock playing through the speakers mixed with the sounds of the overhead TV playing some soccer game and pool balls clinking in the back.

        It was obvious she didn’t belong in her bridal get up. But, God, she didn’t care.

        Her rampant emotions left her feeling a bit numb, Adeline realized, as she forced her feet to move to head over to the bar on the left. It wasn’t too particularly busy at the moment, and Adeline didn’t care for the few eyes that she could feel on her as she neared the bar. She didn’t blame them for staring—so long as no one tried to talk to her. Holding a conversation wasn’t something Adeline thought herself to be capable of at the moment. Holding down a drink, however, was a different story.

        She plopped herself down on the far end of the bar, the dress flowing as she glared at the wooden bar top, feeling the pity and anger and sadness rush through her. It was simmering, like a pot of boiling water, ready to explode when it reached its peak. How desperately did Adeline crave one of Aunt Lorraine’s hugs where she felt at her safest.

        For a moment, the only person Adeline was angry at was herself. There had been a couple of times, only a few, where over the three years she’d been with Ian, Aunt Lorraine would express her curiosities to Adeline, asking her if she was sure if Ian was the one. Even after they got engaged, but Adeline had always stupidly dismissed her. The majority of her was convinced in her heart that Ian was who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, was sure he felt the same when he proposed. But love turned out to be tricky, and it had just played a cruel joke on Adeline.    

        Beads of water could be felt on her skin as they traveled from the curve of her shoulder, down her collarbones and disappeared into the sweetheart neckline of her dress. Dark brown hair that used to be tied into an elegant bun was now loose as strands stuck to her tanned skin. Adeline momentarily wondered if her makeup was smudged, but then quickly deduced that she didn’t give a fuck.

        “Think you’ve made a wrong turn, sweetheart.”

        Adeline’s face immediately scrunched into a scowl, ready to tell whoever’s deep voice just drawled to fuck off, until she looked up. She stared at the man in front of her on the other side of the bar, a black half sleeved shirt fitted and tucked into black pants, showing off tattoos inking his golden skin. Blonde hair sat messily atop his head and familiar dark eyes widened slightly, whether it was because he was taking in her attire or recognizing her—or both.

        The incredulity slackened her jaw as she gaped at him in return, wondering if she was imagining him, wondering why her subconscious would conjure him up in the first place. But despite his different hair color, Adeline could never forget him or the accented drawl of his voice. Her back straightened, breath still in her lungs as she managed to sound out, “Calum?”

        Her high school ex-boyfriend let out a disbelieving scoff of his own as he braced his hands on the bar, dark eyes looking into Adeline’s lighter ones as he gave a shake of his head. “Holy shit,” was how he responded, his low voice carrying a matured rasp he didn’t have back when they were teenagers. He’d grown, obviously, since she last saw him when she was eighteen, he was nearly twenty. Grown into his features, seemingly taller, with a sharp jaw and eyes she’d always seen as both alluring and kind. With another scoff, he added, “I feel like I’m in an episode of Friends.”

        At that, Adeline pursed her lips, unable to keep the unimpressed expression from her face. She wasn’t quite in the mood to joke about her appearance—or spare a thought as to why she was dressed like this in the first place. No, she did not want to think about how she was meant to be getting married right now, did not want to give attention to the seemingly permanent heaviness in her chest where her heart was supposed to be.

        So she forced herself to look past Calum, at the shelves of liquor behind him, before stating, “I’ll take a Hennessy and Coke. Heavy on the Hennessy, please.”

        Adeline didn’t need to directly look at Calum to notice the raise of his eyebrows, biting her tongue for her snippy tone as she looked down at the wooden bar top that had scratches on it. Any other day, Adeline knew she would feel happy to see Calum, thrilled, even. But today didn’t feel like the appropriate day.

        Even if the blood in her veins seem to pick up at the sight of him.

        Fortunately, after regarding her for a moment as she felt his eyes take her in—glancing up only briefly to see the curiosity and confusion and a flash of something else swimming in his gaze—Calum turned to get her drink. Adeline’s light brown eyes trailed after him cautiously, pointedly ignoring the few men and women scattered around the bar, knowing their gazes were shifting to her every now and then. Instead, she watched the tattooed man fix her drink, just barely acknowledging the tug of something she could feel at him being in front of her.

        It had been, what, seven years or so since she last saw him—since they’d broken up. A high school relationship both had believed would go beyond yet it never did. A break up neither of them had particularly wanted, but with school and distance putting a strain on their relationship, it had been the mutual and right thing to do. Despite the amount of nights Adeline remembered crying in her dorm room because she missed him so much. So many countless nights were spent like that, alone and yearning, and heartbroken.

        Until she met Ian.

        But that all went to shit, too, didn’t it?

        Adeline found herself glaring at her hands, which were linked together at the bar top. More specifically, at the now empty ring finger of her left hand, where a faint tan line of where her engagement ring used to be resided after months of being occupied. Her finger felt naked, empty. She wondered if that would be a forever thing, the emptiness and betrayal that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach, kind of like how this night was supposed to be a forever thing. Not anymore, though. The only forever thing on her hands were the tattoos on the insides of both of her wrists; roman numeral dates of her parents’ birthdays on her left, and the date of when Aunt Lorraine legally adopted her on her right.

        “Are you sure this is where you’re supposed to be?” Calum spoke up again, a cautious tilt in his voice as he placed the glass in front of her, his accent lurking beneath the smooth husk of his voice. Adeline’s gaze flickered up to look at him, took in the muted curiosity that didn’t do too good a job to hide the concern she wasn’t sure he should be feeling, and reached for the glass before downing half of the drink.

        The bitter Hennessy stood out against the sweet Coke, but Adeline welcomed the slightly burning taste as it ran down her throat and tingled her veins. And when she put the glass down, half empty, Adeline looked up to see Calum’s raised eyebrows before smiling wryly, “Here is better than there.”

        She put her phone on the bar top, feeling Calum’s eyes on her as she changed the settings to Do Not Disturb after receiving dozens upon dozens of messages from her friends, a couple family members she didn’t talk to much anyway, and Ian. She didn’t even bother looking at his messages, throat tight, and opted to only respond to her best friend, Gabby, to let her know she was okay and safe and that she just couldn’t go through with the wedding, promising details later. Once that reassurance was out of the way, Adeline refused to answer anyone else’s messages and calls, knowing Gabby would take care of it. No one else was important, anyway. It’s not like she had much family. The vultures definitely did not count.

        Adeline felt a burn in her eyes, mentally cursing herself for the tears that threatened to fall as she quickly blinked them back with a sharp inhale. Despite herself, she looked up, watching as Calum leaned back against the counter of liquor behind him, not having anyone else to serve as he crossed his arms over his chest. Adeline tried to ignore the way his biceps seemed to strain against the tight material of his shirt—yeah, he’d definitely grown since she last saw him—and kept her focus on her drink.

        Casually, she heard Calum inquire, “Get left at the altar?”

        Adeline released the thin black straw she’d been drinking out of, letting out an affronted and humorless scoff as she shot him a really? look. “No. I’m the one that did the leaving.” She caught the way his eyebrows twitched upwards, hoping to control his surprised expression but not entirely succeeding, and Adeline would’ve laughed if she had the energy. Instead, she let out another self-deprecating scoff. “I had a good reason—he turned out to be a gold digger.” Raising her glass, elbow propped on the bar top, Adeline smirked wryly, “Mo’ money, mo’ problems.”

        She wondered if he remembered her Aunt Lorraine—they’d always been fond of one another. Hell, at this point, Adeline could be sure that Calum was probably the only boyfriend of hers that Aunt Lorraine approved of. Calum tilted his head ever so slightly, eyebrows knitting together. “And you didn’t find out until the day of your wedding?”

        She didn’t need to be reminded of how oblivious she had gotten—especially from her ex-boyfriend. “Love is blind.”

        Calum pursed his lips as Adeline took another sip of her drink, gaze wandering above his head before landing on two pictures framed on the wall. She narrowed her eyes at one of the photos, consisting of Calum sitting around what looked like a fire pit, drink in his hand and grin on his face as he sat with three other guys—two of whom Adeline immediately recognized as Michael Clifford and Luke Hemmings, two other guys she had gone to school with, both of whom happened to be Calum’s best friend. She fought the smile that surprisingly tugged at her lips; he still hung out with them.

        “Adeline,” Calum sighed, the solemn tone in his voice tightening her muscles as she took in the sympathetic expression he wore, eyebrows furrowed together and lips tugged downwards. He gave a shake of his head. “I’m so—”

        “Please, don’t.” Her voice was hard, cutting in before he could finish his sentiment, just barely steady. Adeline’s light brown eyes met Calum’s dark, watching as he rolled his lips into his mouth, and she hoped the lighting of the bar didn’t give away how heavy her eyes felt with the tears that had gathered. Adeline just knew if she focused too much on her situation, she would break down right in this bar. “I don’t need anyone’s sympathy.” She swallowed, unable to get rid of the lump in her throat as she added in a whisper, “Please.”

        Calum lifted his chin, the muscle in his jaw jumping as she saw the acceptance settle in his features. Some relief relaxed her; Calum had always been one to listen to her. She appreciated it back then and she did now, as well, as he remained silent while Adeline sipped her drink. It warmed her up and for a while, she forgot that she was a bit wet from being in the drizzle for a couple of moments. That’s why she kept sipping her drink, hoping to become numb to the cruel joke that had just been played on her, hoping to forget the humiliation and heartbreak and anger that formed a rampant tornado in her head and stomach.

        “Do you—” She lifted her gaze right as Calum cut himself off, taking in the subtle furrow between his eyebrows as he eyed her. He looked conflicted, as if he was unsure if he wanted to finish his question. But when his dark eyes met hers, Calum let out a breath before stepping towards the bar and asked, “Would you like a change of clothes, Addie?”

        Her throat locked at the nickname that fell from his lips, grip on the glass tightening. She never thought she’d hear him say it again—didn’t think she’d want him to until the moment he said it. It rolled off his lips so easily, so naturally, and it tugged at her heart once again. But Adeline expertly pushed the feeling aside, gaze dropping to her clothes, biting the inside of her lower lip as she took in the dress.

        It was the perfect dress for the perfect day. But as soon as Calum mentioned changing out of it, it suddenly felt too constricting, entrapping her in the moment of finding out the truth about Ian. She needed it off, Adeline realized, the bodice suddenly itching at her chest and tulle weighing down her seated figure. Her perfect day was ruined—not that it was ever truly perfect without her Aunt Lorraine—and now her perfect dress felt like an ugly Halloween costume she needed to be rid of quickly.

        She finally looked at Calum, who was patiently waiting for her answer, and she nodded. Her voice was an unsteady whisper under the music playing throughout the bar, her emotions gradually taking a turn for the worse, as she responded, “Yes.”

        Calum nodded, looking to his right as he said, “I’m gonna head up for a couple of mins, alright?” He was speaking to the other bartender that was on the other end of the bar, who nodded before Calum looked at Adeline and encouraged, “Come on.”

        Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as he walked from around the bar, but Adeline grabbed her phone and stood up, the shuffle of her dress recapturing the attention of the other patrons of the bar. This time, though, Adeline felt her face flush as they eyed her not so subtly, keeping her gaze down and using her hands to grip the skirt of her dress as she walked to where Calum waited for her, her heels clicking against the floor as she went.

        She didn’t dare meet Calum’s, or anyone’s, gaze as he began walking, wanting nothing more than to push down the embarrassment that flushed her skin and churned her stomach. But, truly, it felt nothing compared to the ache in her chest she still refused to acknowledge.

        Calum led her to the far back of the bar, through what Adeline realized was the storage room stocked with bottles of different kinds of alcohol, before they reached a door that Calum unlocked with a set of keys he pulled out from his pocket. “Come on,” he murmured, and Adeline followed him up a wide flight of stairs that were surprisingly well lit, the click of her heels sharper than the music playing out in the bar.

        Adeline moved carefully, holding the tulle of her skirt bunched up in one hand while holding onto the railing with the other, Calum’s footsteps thudding a lot more heavily on the wooden steps as they went up. They got to the top landing, turning a corner and Adeline watched as Calum used another key to unlock yet another door.

        She followed him into an apartment, open and spacious, with wooden floors and bricked walls that gave it the kind of New York style Adeline loved. Her living room was the same way. It was bigger than Adeline would expect for it to be, yet the size of it was perfect for someone living on their own. The living room and kitchen were only separated by a counter, bar stools on the side of the living room reminiscent of the bar downstairs. Windows in the living room framed with parted curtains allowed for the view of the rained out city outside, glass stained with droplets that smacked against it.

        “Let me grab you a towel and, uh, something to wear,” Calum said after he shut the door, and Adeline nodded silently before watching him walk down a hall before turning into a room on the right.

        She idled awkwardly by the stools, becoming all too aware of the chills rising on her drying skin as she stood in the somewhat chilly apartment. Tendrils of hair that escaped from her now messy updo stuck to the back of her neck and the diamond earrings seemed to be weighing her down. But nothing like the weight that settled on her chest.

        “Here—hopefully you can tighten the sweats. And I, uh, got a hanger for you to hang the dress.” Calum’s voice pulled Adeline’s attention, the short chuckle escaping him as he approached her. In his hands was a folded pair of black sweatpants, a shirt, and a towel for her to dry off with, a hanger sitting on top. “The bathrooms right over there.”

        Adeline took the small pile from him, an appreciative smile quirking at her lips as she murmured a soft thanks. She moved around him, feeling his gaze on her and the ruffle of her dress as she approached the bathroom. Adeline put the pile on the counter as something clicked in her head, letting out a breath as she realized she wouldn’t be able to take off the dress by herself. Gabby had to zip up the back for her, and Adeline knew she couldn’t reach the back on her own. Damn it.

        “Hey, Calum?” She chewed on the inside of her lower lip as he appeared in the doorway a moment later, eyebrows raised in question and Adeline didn’t pay much attention to the drumming of her heart, knowing it was out of embarrassment. That’s all she was capable of feeling today—humiliation. His brown eyes met her lighter ones, and through the flush of her cheeks, Adeline asked quietly, “Could you, uh, help unzip me?”

        His gaze flickered down to the dress, forehead smoothing out in realization and Adeline pretended she didn’t notice the way his throat worked. With a quick lick of his lips, Calum answered, “Yeah, sure.”

        She held her breath despite herself as she turned, focusing her attention on the baby blue colored shower curtain in an attempt to ignore the feel of Calum’s fingers at her back. Adeline pressed her teeth together as she felt him grip the top of the dress before his other hand grasped the small zipper. The quick beating of her heart drove Adeline crazy, frowning at herself because seriously? She could feel Calum’s body right behind her, his heat radiating in their proximity, and despite the years between them, Adeline’s throat dried at the familiarity of it. A kind of warmth she had once loved being wrapped up in, even if it was all the way back in high school.

        Somethings she never forgot. Calum Hood was one of them, it seemed.

        The sharp yet quiet sound of the zipper coming undone rang in Adeline’s ears, and she pressed her palm against the bodice of her dress just in case as the now loose dress relaxed the narrow off the shoulder tulle straps of her dress. There had been a time where Calum knew her better than she knew herself—was he aware that him being so close was sending her heart into overdrive? That when she should, like perhaps a normal person, be grieving over the end of a three year relationship—the explosion of her wedding day being absolutely fucked—she was instead biting the tip of her tongue in an attempt to focus on anything but the warmth of his fingers on her back?

        God—what was wrong with her? In the span of two months, she’d lost her Aunt Lorraine and her fiancé. How could she be standing there getting overwhelmed by the mere act of an ex-boyfriend standing behind her?

        Granted, he was unzipping her dress, but that was besides the point.

        Adeline gripped the front of the dress close to her chest, even though she knew it wasn’t just about to fall around her feet, and she felt a chill slither down her now exposed back as she took a hasty step forward, putting some distance between the two of them. Her free hand grabbed the doorknob and, not quite meeting Calum’s gaze, rushed out, “Thanks,” just as he stepped back as well, allowing her to close the door before he could respond.

        Her soft whisper of, “Oh, my God,” felt loud in the quiet of the bathroom, but Adeline shook her head as she turned to face the mirror above the sink, inhaling sharply as she took in her reflection. Her makeup, for the most part, seemed to be intact—the waterproof mascara really having done its due diligence. Only the lipstick she’d worn had began to chaste away, and Adeline pursed her lips as she looked into the eyes of her reflection.

        Though she hadn’t shed many tears, Adeline could see the red rims of her eyes, strained from the onslaught of tears she had managed to hold back. The glow she had woken up with that morning, excited in the best way to get married to who she thought was the love of her life, had disappeared, leaving Adeline a dull reminiscent of who she had been just a few hours prior. Even the professionally done makeup failed to hide the impact of her life being leveled right before her, making her appear as hollow as she felt. In the quiet and privacy of the bathroom, reality settled, allowing Adeline to finally, deeply acknowledge how fucked up her life had become within a blink of an eye.

        It would be so unbelievable easy to fall into a heap in the corner of the bathroom, dress and all, and succumb to the torment in her heart that troubled her. Without any eyes on her, how easy would it be to just finally break the hell down.

        But as quickly as that thought came into her head, it was just as quickly thrown out of her head. She didn’t want to cry over Ian, despite knowing that she wasn’t going to cry over him rather than what happened to her. Adeline had never been one to care much for what other people thought, never listened to gossip whether it was among her friends or her family, but she already knew the amount of shit she was going to get from family that she barely talked to in the first place.

        She really wished Aunt Lorraine was with her.

        Adeline took in a deep breath, sniffing afterwards as she shook her head at herself. No. She wasn’t going to fall into an abyss of self pity—not in Calum’s bathroom anyway.

        So she let the dress fall around her ankles, stepping out of it and using the hanger Calum had helpfully provided to hang up the heavy article before hanging it on the hook on the door. Grabbing the towel, the soft material was gentle against her somewhat damp skin as she dried herself off, eyes landing on the clothes folded for her. Once again, Adeline’s throat tightened, memories of when they were in high school playing through her mind, moments of when she’d go to the soccer games in either his jersey or varsity jacket.

        How funny was fate, bringing her to her ex-boyfriend in the midst of running from her fiancé?

        Adeline’s fingers brushed along the soft material of the shirt. Yeah; fate was a funny thing, and something told her she shouldn’t take this turn of events with a grain of salt.

*****

        Calum’s fingers rhythmically tapped against the counter, a small attempt of grounding himself into reality to prevent losing himself to the thoughts swirling around his head. He had pulled his phone out to further distract him, and yet he kept glancing to the right in the direction of the hall, all to aware of the woman in his bathroom. If he was being honest, he was in a state of disbelief, had been since the second Adeline’s eyes met his and he realized who exactly the woman in a fucking wedding dress in his bar was.

        The past had slapped him in the face with the arrival of Adeline Grace, just as beautiful as he remembered her being—because even today, years after since he last saw her, she was a sight meant to only be admired. Six years separated the two of them and yet, the second he recognized her, she had sent his heart into his throat like she used to every time when they were younger. He didn’t try to think about her often, but that always failed, and she was present in his thoughts mostly when he lay alone in his bed at night and his head started picking apart every aspect of his life as a way of tiring him out to finally go to sleep. That’s when her face often flashed across his mind, the frozen image of an eighteen year old Adeline because that was the last time he’d actually seen her. Even in the age of social media, Calum didn’t give into his darkest desires of looking he up. He always figured it would only end up hurting him.

        Was this the universe’s distorted way of rewarding him for his self control?

        Out of all the bars in New York, Adeline just happened to walk into his—from her abandoned wedding, no less. Even in the face of betrayal and heartache, Adeline was a picture of beauty, and Calum felt guilty for regarding her as such when she was so obviously going through what could arguably be the worst day of her life. Still, Calum believed in things happening for a reason, he believed in the idea of the universe working in a person’s favor even if it didn’t feel like it at the time—and he’s had many of those—and no matter the circumstances, he couldn’t help but believe that his high school ex-girlfriend showing up to his bar on what was to be her wedding day meant something more.

        But he’d never say it to Adeline. Not today, or ever—he wasn’t sure. All he wanted to do was help her however he could; turning her away would never be an option, that much he knew. He’d kind of made that mistake already, hadn’t he, in some way?

        Soon enough, he heard the familiar creak of the bathroom door opening and he instantly sat up, locking his phone as he watched Adeline emerge. He propped his right elbow on the back of the stool, body turning as his gaze took in the sight of her in clothes that were far too big for her—his clothes. She used the drawstrings of the sweatpants to tighten them as much as she could, one shoulder of his plain red shirt hanging low on her collarbone; she was practically swimming in his clothes, and the silver heels on her feet only further mismatched her outfit.

        Calum figured she took a while in there because of her hair—which had been made into an updo when she arrived, and was now falling around her shoulders in waves, rid of the army of pins that had been holding it up. Out of the dress and in his clothes, Adeline looked small, despite the added height her heels gave her five-foot-six figure, playing with her nude painted nails as she slowly walked towards him, her heels clicking against the floor.

        “I, uh—” Adeline paused, vaguely gesturing towards the bathroom as she looked at him. She suddenly seemed shy, quiet, and it stirred something in the pit of Calum’s stomach. It wasn’t her, he knew, her demeanor taking a hit from what the day had already done to her. “I left my dress hanging just so it could dry a little.”

        Calum nodded, brown eyes taking her in. She was playing with her phone in her hand, her nerves acting up, and Calum pulled his lower lip into his mouth briefly because he knew she didn’t know what to do next. So he stood up, ticking his head towards the door. “Come on—let me get you another drink.”

        He heard her follow him out the apartment, waiting for him in the landing as he locked his door before the two of them descended the stairs and went back to the bar. Calum walked behind the counter as Adeline returned to her seat, and he felt his eyes on her as he made her another drink.

        When he placed it in front of her and Adeline took it with a gentle thanks, Calum let out a quiet breath. “Listen, Addie—” She looked up at him and Calum bit the inside of his cheek as her nickname slipped past his tongue without much thought. She didn’t seem bothered by it. “I know you’re probably not in the mood but just so you know—if you wanna talk about it, I’m here.” With a soft smirk, he added, “Bartenders are good listeners.”

        Her light brown eyes remained locked with his darker ones, fingers absently twirling the thin black straw in her drink. The light of the bar glimmered against her eyes, and he saw the gentle curve of her lips as she responded, “You’d been a good listener long before you became a bartender, Calum.” Her words had Calum’s smile returning, soft as his eyebrows drew together, taking a breath. Adeline’s gaze dropped, eyeing the drink in front of her as she pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “I don’t even know if there’s anything to talk about, y’know?” she spoke up and Calum braced his hands on the bar top. “I don’t know if he was a liar from the beginning and I just didn’t see it, or if something changed along the way.”

        Calum took a breath, chin lifting as he peered down at her. The dejected, conflicted expression on her face tugged at his heart. “I think you would’ve known something was off if he, y’know, had an agenda from the start.”

        Adeline let out a disbelieving scoff, lifting her gaze to look up at him through long eyelashes. “Would I?” she asked, the sadness in her eyes only showing off the emptiness she felt as she cupped her glass. “I have a habit of not seeing what’s right in front of me.” She dropped her gaze then, lips twisting to the side, and Calum’s throat worked at her words, stopping himself from finding a double meaning behind them, stopping himself from reading too into them. Now wasn’t the time. “Either I was too blind to see it from the start, or I wasn’t as worth as the money that came with me.”

        That instantly deepened Calum’s frown, a rush of anger coursing through his veins at the thought of some asshole ever making Adeline feel badly about herself. Calum could only hope he never made Adeline feel like that but, fuck, this wasn’t about him. “Hey, stop,” Calum said, shifting so he was leaning down, resting his arms on the bar top as he tilted his head to meet her gaze. She reluctantly locked her light brown eyes with his darker ones. “You’ve got every right to be angry and upset over this, but don’t blame yourself, alright? The only one who’s at fault here is—is—”

        “Ian,” Adeline supplied.

        The guy’s name sounded like an asshole. “Yeah, him,” Calum finished tightly.

        She looked at him for a few moments, and Calum hoped she saw the sincerity in his eyes as he maintained the gaze, fighting to not get distracted by how pretty she was—as always. Her nose ring glinted gently against the light of the bar as the corner of her lips quirked up, tapping her nails once against the glass. The sound was so clear, reminding Calum of how close they now were, leaning on the bar on their respective sides.

        Adeline took a breath, sitting up, adding some distance between them as Calum linked his fingers together. “At the end of the day, I’m gonna look like the bad guy,” she sighed with a somewhat bitter chuckle. She raised the glass, eyes meeting Calum’s. “I’m the one who ran out; I’ve got no doubt Ian’s gonna make himself look like the victim. The vultures are gonna take his side, probably.”

        She smirked by the end of her statement, and Calum felt his own lips tugging upwards despite the harsh truth of her words—mostly because of the familiarity he found. He clearly remembered Adeline’s nickname for her family, all money hungry despite having their own—but never as much as Adeline’s aunt. Standing straight, Calum shrugged. “I’m sure Lorraine’ll put ’em in place for you.”

        He wasn’t sure where he went wrong with his response when he saw the smile drop from Adeline’s face, features stoning as she lowered her gaze. Calum’s eyebrows knitted together as Adeline’s throat worked, lips pursing, and he so easily recognized the somber expression she wore. Right when he parted her lips, Adeline broke the news, “Actually, uh, Aunt Lorraine passed two months ago.”

        Calum inhaled sharply, quietly at her revelation, fingers folding into his palms as his knuckles pressed into the hardwood of the countertop. He clenched his jaw as Adeline kept her gaze on the glass in front of her, and Calum bowed his head briefly as he remembered Aunt Lorraine. She was one of the kindest women he’d ever met, but never let anyone push her around, was a hard ass when she had to be, and loved Adeline with every fiber of her being. She’d taken Adeline in when she was just four and lost her parents, and he got along well with her—she’d often tell Calum that he was her favorite of the boys Adeline had brought around before him.

        Knowing she was gone—knowing that Adeline lost the one parent she knew—twisted Calum’s stomach a lot more harshly than he expected. He hadn’t seen Adeline or Lorraine for years, but those years between them didn’t mean the loss of a woman he admired and cared about didn’t strike him painfully.

        “I’m—” Calum sighed, lifting his head as he shook it once, lips pressing together tightly before he muttered, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Adeline. I—Lorraine was an amazin’ woman.”

        “Yeah,” Adeline smiled, sad and fond, gaze flickering up to lock with his. She looked at him for a moment, her gaze heavy nearly knocking the wind out of Calum, until she said, “She loved you.” Her smile widened a fraction, almost teasing through the solemnity. “Thought you were the best of the bunch.” Adeline shrugged as she continued, “She didn’t want a funeral, just a cremation and then I, uh, spread her ashes at the old lake house.”

        Calum’s lips quirked up in a sad, nostalgic smile. He remembered that lake house—Lorraine would often invite him to join her and Adeline whenever they went up to it for the weekend. Throat working, Calum felt the words weigh heavily on his tongue as he slowly, cautiously asked, “How’d she pass?”

        His gaze flickered to the door as it opened and two people rushed in, running from the rain as they stood by the entrance to dry off. Adeline let out a long sigh. “Heart attack. She’d had one last year but, uh, wasn’t able to bounce back from this one.”

        Her lips twisted to the side as she kept her gaze low, eyebrows twitching together in a frown. Calum’s heart ached for Adeline. For losing her aunt and for losing this day. She’d already lost someone so important to her, and for her to find out her fiancé was nothing but a greedy scumbag on her wedding day? Calum wished he could make this better for her, make her smile just a little.

        Some things never changed.

*****

        “Do you believe in fate?”

        Dr. Boocz quirked an eyebrow, and Adeline knew she hadn’t expected the question. Still, Adeline was curious for her answer, and Dr. Boocz leaned back in her seat and crossed her leg over her left knee. “I believe in it to a certain extent,” she answered. “I think that some things fall apart so that better things can come together. But I also believe that if life is going bad, you have the free will to perceive it however you want. It’s like looking at the glass half full versus half empty. A person’s current situation can suck,” she laughed gently before continuing, “and sometimes it’s beyond their own control but the only way to help your mental health is to fix how you view the situation and what you’re going to do to better yourself.”

        Adeline nodded along before letting out a soft scoff through her nose. “A simple yes or no would’ve done the trick, Doc.”

        Dr. Boocz smiled, hands linking together at her knee, pen in between her fingers as she inquired, “Why the interest in fate?”

        Rolling her lips into her mouth, Adeline let her gaze wander towards the window. They were on the fifth floor of the building, the city around them, and it often distracted Adeline. Sometimes, though, it put her in a trance, allowed her to fall into her thoughts and sort through them while Dr. Boocz patiently waited. Her words swam in Adeline’s mind, chewing the inside of her cheek. Some things fall apart so that better things can come together. Ian’s face flashed across her mind and Adeline pressed her teeth together. Her relationship with him fell apart but in the aftermath she. . . Somehow ended up in Calum’s bar.

        She’d spent the past few days thinking about it amidst avoiding ashamed family members and cutting her communication with Ian short. Aunt Lorraine’s brownstone was left to Adeline and she hadn’t quite decided what to do with it yet, so she moved back into the house and Gabby, along with a couple of other close friends of Adeline’s, had gone to her shared apartment with Ian and packed up her things for her. She refused to let there be a chance of her running into Ian, knowing the odds of it were high if she went to the apartment, so she was grateful her friends offered to do so.

        That didn’t mean Ian didn’t try to reach out to her. He was pissed, she could tell from the texts she’d received before blocking his number. Gabby had temporarily moved in with Adeline just in case Ian showed up to the house so she wouldn’t have to deal with him alone.

        That all fell apart and yet Adeline ended up walking right into Calum.

        In between being angry with Ian and missing Aunt Lorraine, Adeline couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Calum. Out of all the places in the city, she ended up in his bar. Over the six years between them, neither of them ran into each other until the moment she walked out of her own wedding. Perfectly timed for them to see one another again during a time that left Adeline feeling so empty. Unsurprising because Calum. . . He never made Adeline feel like that. Even when they broke up, even when it was leading to the end of their relationship, the only time she had felt empty because of him was after they were no longer together. Like a piece of her was missing.

        She thought Ian filled it. Now she realized he had been a band aid that’s long since weathered away.

        “I ran into my ex,” Adeline finally answered Dr. Boocz, letting out a breath. “When I left my—my wedding. I was just wandering around the city and I ended up at a bar. Turns out it’s owned by my ex.”

        Dr. Boocz nodded. “And this ex—”

        “Calum,” Adeline supplied.

        “Calum,” Dr. Boocz repeated. “What was it like, seeing him again?”

        Adeline didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Good,” she said, feeling a small smile quirk at the corner of her lips as her brown eyes met Dr. Boocz’s. Adeline drummed her fingers on the couch pillow she settled on her lap, considering her words. “I mean definitely unexpected, you know? But good. We, uh, talked and caught up a little and it just—it felt natural. Nothing felt forced. It had always been easy to talk to him.”

        “Why’d you two break up?”

        “He was a year older than me, so he left for college first,” Adeline answered. “At first we managed the distance. But then I went to college and we got even more far apart. You know—geographically. And that effected our relationship.” She dropped her gaze, looking down at the nude acrylics on her nails, which she had done for the wedding. She had to go to the salon. “We tried to make it work but we got so busy with school and having a relationship kind of felt like it was just another thing to do, I guess. It was a mutual break up and we just—never saw each other after that. I don’t think either of us meant for that to happen.” Adeline inhaled deeply. “At least I didn’t.”

        Dr. Boocz hummed, twirling her pen between her fingers. “What I’m hearing is, you two didn’t break up because you no longer loved each other. Circumstances just seemed to work against you.”

        Adeline sighed, gripping the pillow to her chest. “Yeah, I guess.”

        “Do you believe fate brought you to Calum’s bar after walking away from Ian?”

        Forcing her knee not to bounce, Adeline nodded. “I think so. It’s like you said about the glass being half empty or half full. I can see it both ways. Empty because of what Ian did—full because I reconnected with Calum.”

        “But what would you rather focus on?”

        “The glass being full,” Adeline answered, feeling a small smile quirk at her lips. She let her gaze wander around the familiar office, the baby blue walls always comforting. “I want to reconnect with Calum more. Not for, like, romantic purposes but because I miss him. I didn’t realize how much until I saw him. He’d always been a good friend before we started dating and I regret not reaching out to him before all of this. I feel like I wasted time with Ian after finding out what he was really in for and that’s not something I want to do again.”

        Her words may be harsh, labeling Ian as a waste of time, but Adeline couldn’t entirely bring herself to care. She was so unbelievably angry, so heartbroken, and she would rather deem him as a good-for-nothing than acknowledge him as someone she had, at one point, genuinely loved. Adeline had never been one to believe that someone could just fall out of love with another within a blink of an eye, always thought the heart was so much more complicated than that. But when she had overheard Ian’s conversation with Keith, it was like a switch had been flipped. He made her feel like an idiot, humiliated her—why should she spend another second loving him? Especially when he didn’t deserve it?

        She’d had a few days to think about it, and although Adeline knew it would take longer to get over it, to get the ache in her chest to ease up, she wasn’t regretful of her actions. Only that she let it get this far so blindly.

        “That’s good, Adeline,” Dr. Boocz said, a smile on her face as she nodded. “But I want you to keep something in mind.” Adeline raised her eyebrows, listening intently. “It’s okay to reconnect but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Take things slowly. Don’t fall into anything serious, romantic or platonic, while in a vulnerable state. Think about what’s good for you in this moment and what would make you happy, and not depending on others to make you happy.”

        Adeline pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, Dr. Boocz’s words swimming in her head. She knew her therapist was right, knew that she was in a vulnerable state and shouldn’t dive into anything. But Adeline genuinely believed there was no harm reconnecting with Calum; if their conversations at the bar were anything to go by, Adeline had felt comfortable and safe with him. But yeah; it would be foolish of her to fall into something new as she dealt with her relationship with Ian falling apart, especially after Aunt Lorraine’s death.

        Even if Calum wasn’t anyone new.

        The afternoon sun felt good on Adeline’s skin as she stepped up from the subway station and headed towards her street. Her music played in her ears as she walked down the sidewalk, Frappuccino in hand to sip from as she approached her house, only to stop in front of the three steps leading to the front door when she saw who was sitting on them.

        Adeline inhaled sharply as Ian stood up, a disgruntled scoff escaping him as he declared, “Finally. I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes.”

        “What the hell are you doing here?” Despite the firmness in her tone, Adeline felt her heart beginning to quicken its pace, the sight of Ian not something she was prepared for.

        “Trying to talk to you,” Ian frowned, stopping just a few feet in front of her. She still felt like he was too close. “You left without a word, cleaned your things out of our place and you haven’t said shit to me. You have any idea how much you embarrassed me, Adeline, in front of all our friends and family? The fuck is wrong with you?”

        He took a step closer with every sentence, and Adeline’s grip on her cup tightened as she took a step back, teeth pressing together tightly. She wasn’t intimidated by him, by any means; she just didn’t want him too close, wasn’t comfortable with it. And despite the shock of his presence, Adeline didn’t lose her voice.

        “I embarrassed you?” she repeated incredulously, sharp eyes meeting his dark blue. How arrogant was he? “You’re the one who played me, who was only in it for the fucking money. I don’t care if people think I’m the bad guy—but I would be damned if I let you make any more of a fool out of me than you have already.”

        She found it in herself to walk past him, purposefully bumping her shoulder into his as she did so. But Ian grasped her wrist, turning her around as he demanded, “You’re gonna walk away from me, just like that? That’s how you treat people you love?”

        Holy shit—how delusional was he? Adeline genuinely wondered if he was living in some reality where he hadn’t done anything wrong, where she truly was the villain of this story. Adeline would’ve laughed at the surrealness of it all if she wasn’t so bewildered at his arrogance. Her jaw tightened and Adeline, without hesitance, successfully jerked her wrist out of Ian’s grip. He glared at her, one she returned with full ferocity, a fire burning in her eyes as she snapped, “That’s how I treat people who are scum. You’re a liar, Ian, and I refuse to waste another second on you. Get the fuck off my property before I call the cops.”

        The last thing she saw was the astonishment flash across his features, her harsh words slapping him across the face as she turned and stormed up the steps, keys already out to unlock the front door. Adeline didn’t look back, didn’t need a reason to, and slammed the door behind her before letting out a deep breath. She looked up at the ceiling, finally acknowledging the quick pace of her heart, exhaling slowly as she told herself to relax, to calm down. She had felt good about the words she had said, felt good in shutting the door in Ian’s face.

        It would take time, and it probably would be painful, but Adeline knew she would eventually move past the shit show with Ian. Closing the door on him was the first step.

*****

        Friday nights, unsurprisingly, were busy at the bar. Calum, although he hadn’t wanted to at first, had eventually decided to clear out some tables and chairs when it got really busy so patrons could take advantage of the space and dance to the music being played. He didn’t really care for it at first, but after a couple of broken glasses, he figured the cheapest thing to do would be to clear out the tables and chairs just for nights like these.

        He wasn’t bartending tonight, his two other employees staying busy, so he remained by the end of the bar as he chatted with his friends, though he kept an eye around the bar and was willing to step in should his employees need him to. As usual, people of all ages were frequenting the bar, mostly those in his age group, all ready to ring in the weekend after a long week of work. Calum stayed by his friends, sipping his beer, the enthusiastic atmosphere of the bar not one he wasn’t used to, obviously.

        “Hey, Cal—can I get another White Claw?” Crystal asked, and Calum gave her a quick nod before making his way towards the other end of the bar where her drink of choice was kept.

        He made sure not to get in the way of his working bartenders, the bar expectedly busy, and right when Calum stood straight after pulling out can from the small fridge on the ground, his eyes instinctively drifted over to the door. His heart stopped, the surprise momentarily freezing him in place when he easily recognized Adeline enter the bar. He found himself staring at her, blinking out of his trance only when Adeline’s eyes managed to land on his despite the people in between them, a small smile quirking against her lips under the red and purple lights of the bar splashing across her face.

        He watched as Adeline approached the bar and Calum stepped closer as well, another woman following behind her, and once she was within earshot, Adeline smiled, “Fancy seeing you here.”

        A smile lifted Calum’s lips through a scoff, arms folding on top of the bar as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I think that’s my line,” he returned smoothly.

        Adeline let out a laugh, one he hadn’t been able to hear much the last time they saw each other about a week ago. Her in front of him now, with that easy going smile on her face, made Calum feel a bit better than the last time she was on the other side of his bar. Patting the messenger bag hanging off her shoulder, she said, “I have your clothes.”

        Quirking an eyebrow, Calum felt his smile turn into a small smirk as he asked, “Is that all you came for?”

        “You make a mean Henny and Coke.”

        Calum laughed, a lightness in his chest, realizing that Adeline had brought a friend and he needed to go back to his. He stood straight, ticking his head over to the left. “You wanna join? I’m sure Mike and Luke’ll be happy to see you.”

        Her smile softened, straightening as well as she nodded and said, “Yeah, sure.”

        He made his way back down the bar, glancing over to see Adeline and her friend making their way through the mild throng of people. When he reached his friends, Calum handed Crystal her drink before nodding at Luke and Michael. “Look who I found.”

        Everyone looked to the left, and Calum watched as recognition instantly flashed across Luke and Michael’s features as they both put their drinks out and cheered, characteristically loudly, “Adeline!”

        Calum grinned, an amused chuckle escaping him as her eyes widened in surprise at their grand reaction, watching as they got up from their seats to wrap her in hugs. As that happened, Calum met Ashton’s gaze, who quirked a knowing eyebrow as he mouthed, “Adeline?” because he knew exactly who she was despite never meeting her. Of course Calum had told his best friend, the one he’d made in college, about running into his high school ex again. Calum kept a lot of things to himself—seeing Adeline again couldn’t hope to be one of them. His excitement had been almost childish, despite the circumstances.

        Once Adeline introduced them to her friend, Gabby, and she was introduced to the few people she didn’t know, Calum took it upon himself to prepare their drinks. He found himself glancing over in the couple of minutes he’d stepped away, watching as Adeline and Gabby animatedly chatted with his friends, Luke and Michael having given up their seats for the two of them to sit on. He looked at Adeline, who didn’t look as drained or hollow as she had the last time, a smile on her face that he enjoyed the sight of.

        “Cal told us you two ran into each other last week,” Michael grinned, leaning against the bar next to Crystal. “I thought he was just messing with us.”

        Calum rolled his eyes as he sipped his beer, watching as Adeline laughed and teased, “Calum’s a lot of things—I don’t think being a liar’s one of them.”

        “Hey, hey, don’t try to butter him up—you’re already getting free drinks,” Ashton joked with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, eliciting laughter from the group as Calum flipped him off from where he stood at the end of the bar.

        Adeline’s jaw dropped with the laugh that escaped her before she moved with purpose. Calum watched, amused smile on his lips and eyebrows raised as she dug into her bag before producing a couple of bills that added up to the cost of her drink. She purposefully showed Ashton the money between her fingers, earning a dimpled grin from him before she leaned over Gabby and pushed the money in the front pocket of Calum’s jeans. He laughed as he watched her do so before she grinned at Ashton, “Drinks aren’t free, but the truth is.”

        Calum scoffed through a laugh, deciding he’d give her the money back later instead of doing so now and squashing the point she was making. Right now, although he was engaged in the conversations with his friends, Calum was still trying to wrap his head around the sight of Adeline sitting among them.

        It was dangerously coming close to how things used to be when they were back in high school, in addition to a few new friends, and it warmed Calum’s heart to see her so comfortable with them. She didn’t look like she was folding into herself, a bright smile on her face as she chatted and laughed and sipped her drink. When he realized he was admiring her for too long, too frequently, Calum tried to distract himself by finding things to do. He’d wash his gaze around the bar, making sure everyone was good, checked in with his bartenders to see if they were keeping up with the orders—really just doing his job to avert his gaze from Adeline every now and then.

        “Hey, Cal—we need another bottle of Absolut and one of Bacardi,” one of the bartenders, Bridgit, told him from where she stood making a margarita.

        Calum nodded. “I’ll bring ’em.”

        He excused himself from his friends and walked around the bar, heading to the door that led towards the inventory room. He offered smiles to the customers he recognized who frequented his bar enough as he went, using the key he kept on him to unlock the door.

        As he opened it, he heard Ashton say, “I’m surprised you managed to look away from Adeline long enough.”

        Calum rolled his eyes at the teasing tone in his friend’s voice, stepping inside the dark room. He switched the light on as Ashton followed him, and Calum muttered a resigned, “Here we go.”

        Ashton’s tone was conversational, a little too innocent as he said, “She’s sweet and very pretty. I can see why you dated her.”

        Wandering over to where the supply of Absolut was, Calum threw Ashton a frown over his shoulder before quickly looking away, grabbing for one of the bottles. “Those weren’t the only reasons why I dated her.” Why he felt the need to defend himself, he didn’t know. Ashton knew Calum wasn’t that shallow, yet the words still slipped.

        “Oh?”

        Calum did a mental count of how many of those bottles were left before moving onto find the Bacardi. They should still have a few of those sitting around. It was one of the kinds of liquor that went out fast. “We were friends before we ever got together. She was one of the only other people, back then, who knew me as well as Mike and Luke did. Probably more. When we got together, it felt. . .”

        Calum trailed off, jaw clenching as he grabbed the neck of the Bacardi bottle and pulled it out, feeling a tightness in his chest as he thought of the time he and Adeline were together and happy. It was all happy. Blissfully so, even if they had just been in high school.

        “It felt what?” Ashton asked, curiosity coloring his tone.

        Calum turned to face his friend once more, the words climbing up his throat, begging to let out. He thought of that first day he met Adeline: second period honors English on the first day of his sophomore year, and her freshman year, of high school, where they had been assigned to sit next to each other. She’d worn her silver framed glasses, hair tied into a French braid, looking like the prettiest girl sixteen year old Calum had seen. So he lifted a shoulder, voice drawn yet sincere as he answered, “It felt inevitable.”

*****

        One of Adeline’s favorite things about her job was that a majority of it could be done from home. She worked as a content editor for a popular fashion magazine—but mostly for the magazine’s online content, with a few projects in the physical versions. But because of her job, Adeline was able to do it from home on her laptop, not really needing to venture into the office where most of the other employees worked from. The only time she went was when there were important staff meetings or if her work was to be done on the physical versions—she preferred doing those in the office.

        She liked going into work; truthfully, Adeline didn’t really need a job, not with the inheritance she had from Aunt Lorraine. But her aunt had always told Adeline that working for her own money was something to be proud of, something everyone should be able to experience. It was why Adeline had many summer jobs as a teenager, anything from scooping ice cream to working in department stores. Just because she had money, doesn’t mean she couldn’t work for it, too.

        Besides, what the hell else was she supposed to do with her time? All of her friends had jobs, and she could only keep herself company for so long.

        But going into work lately had been somewhat of a challenge. Ever since she ran out of her wedding nearly two weeks ago, Adeline had become the topic of office gossip, given that several of her coworkers and boss had been in attendance. At this point, a lot of the talk was dying down—mostly thanks to Veera Waters, their boss, who had heard some employees not so discreetly talking about how trashy it was to run out of your own wedding, and berated them six ways to Sunday. Adeline had appreciated Veera stepping in because it put an end to any of the negative comments anyone was saying. It wasn’t everyone who felt that way, but Adeline didn’t need to hear it. She didn’t care what anyone else thought—but that didn’t mean she had a desire to hear any of it.

        “I need a vacation,” Adeline announced with a huff as soon as she sat down on the chair opposite of Gabby. She hadn’t need to stay at the office after the weekly staff meeting, so once she had her assignment, Adeline left to meet up with Gabby for lunch at one of their favorite spots by Bryant Park. “Badly.”

        Gabby smirked slightly as she sipped at her drink. “I told you, you should’ve just gone on your honeymoon instead of getting a refund.”

        Adeline snorted, arms resting on the rests of the chair as she crossed her right leg at the left knee. “Yeah, right. Spend a week in the City of Love by myself after breaking up with my fiancé? Fat chance of that happening.”

        An exasperated look crossed Gabby’s face. “Paris is the City of Love. Not Venice.”

        Of course Adeline knew that. “Not for me, it isn’t,” she retorted. She preferred the beauty of Venice over the beauty of Paris any day. Now she wouldn’t get to see it because Ian was a piece of shit.

        The waitress came by then, a familiar friendly face by the name of Holly, and Adeline rattled off her usual order while also asking for some wine. She needed it. “Seriously, though,” Adeline spoke up with a sigh. “I need to be out of this city so I don’t run into Ian. And I need to be out of cell range from the vultures.”

        Gabby made a face at the mention of those people. Adeline’s best friend knew first hand how money-thirty Adeline’s extended family could be. All the second cousins and great aunts or uncles who spent a lifetime trying to get on Aunt Lorraine’s good side to have a sniff of the money she had in her grasp. Now their attentions had shifted to Adeline, the sole inheritor of it all. And after talking to Aunt Lorraine’s most trusted lawyers, Adeline knew it was only hers to do with what she pleased. And she would be damned if she let it get in the hands of greedy family members who weren’t happy with the money they had and wanted to dig their claws in her deceased aunt’s vault.

        No fucking way.

        “What about the lake house?” Gabby suggested just as Holly returned with Adeline’s wine—and a basket of deliciously warm bread.

        Adeline’s stomach twisted at her friend’s question—one asked tentatively, she could tell. Picking up a piece of bread, Adeline tore it in half and reached for the little rectangle of butter. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

        Truthfully, Adeline hadn’t been to the lake house since she went to spread Aunt Lorraine’s ashes. Even though Adeline used to go to the lake house to spend weekend with friends, it was also the place she and Aunt Lorraine used to close themselves off to when they wanted to take a break from the city. It was their happy place where they spent time cooking, baking, swimming in the lake, visiting the small town it was near because sometimes they preferred that over the business of the city. But it had been two months since Adeline had been back, and although she yearned to go once more, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

        “You wouldn’t be going alone,” Gabby assured her as she put down her glass. “We can make a trip out of it. Invite more people, if you want.”

        The idea was fun, Adeline could admit, and one she would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a few months ago. The lake house was full of happy, nostalgic memories, and Adeline knew Aunt Lorraine would want her to continue making more. Adeline offered a small smile to Gabby, bringing the piece of bread to her mouth. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

        It was a non-answer, but Gabby seemed to understand that was all she would get from Adeline and nodded in acceptance. When Holly returned with their food, Gabby asked, “So—Calum. What’s going on there?”

        Adeline glanced up from her plate of shrimp scampi, eyebrows knitting together. The jump in her chest at the mention of him wasn’t something she could totally ignore. “What do you mean?” Adeline returned, twirling the pasta around her fork. “Nothing’s going on anywhere. We only just reconnected.”

        “And are you gonna keep reconnecting?” Gabby questioned, a glint in her eye. With a teasing smile, she said, “If my high school sweetheart looked like that, I totally would.”

        Adeline felt her cheeks warm at Gabby’s reference of Calum being her high school sweetheart. Technically, he was. But hearing someone else say it was strange—and not in the bad way. Keeping her tone flat, Adeline said, “Do you really think I’m capable of pursuing something after ending it with Ian? Who I was with for three years, need I remind you?”

        Three years down the drain. God. Was any of it real? Adeline found herself wondering that more often than she liked. She wanted to be rid of him. To scrub her body clean of any trace of him. As much as she had loved him, as soon as the truth had come out, Adeline felt nothing but a burning anger when she thought of Ian, alongside the pain that came with a blindsiding heartbreak. Love was complicated but hate—hate wasn’t. And Adeline knew, despite spending years with him, loving him, her anger and hate won out.

        Gabby clicked her tongue with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to pursue anything,” she said. “You told me you guys were friends before you dated, and from what I can tell, Calum seems like a really nice guy. Besides—” An almost excited glimmer appeared in Gabby’s eyes, a small smile dancing on her lips as she leaned forward. “Don’t you think it’s, like, wild how you left Ian only to end up at your ex’s bar? That shit’s from the movies.”

        Adeline swallowed her mouthful of pasta, lips twisting to the side. Gabby had only voiced exactly what Adeline had been thinking about since the moment she saw Calum. What were the damn odds of that happening? New York was a big city, sure, but to not have seen Calum for six years and only to run into him on her would-be wedding day? Adeline recalled her conversation with Dr. Boocz about fate, how Adeline herself wondered if that’s what this was.

        She found herself hoping for it to be true. No matter how cliché or fictional it seemed.

        But this wasn’t a movie. If it was, Adeline was desperate to fast forward to the end. Maybe then everything would stop hurting.

*****

        The looming brownstone looked almost exactly as it had the last time Calum had seen it years ago, except now the bricks were obviously weathered, but the greenery around the steps were bright and lively. He stopped in the middle of the small path leading up to the front steps, taking a moment to admire the house, the early afternoon sun making the bricks almost glimmer with the dew that still clung to them from the brief rain that fell early in the morning.

        For a moment, Calum wondered why he never stepped foot here until now. When he and Adeline broke up, it wasn’t like he never came back to the city—it wasn’t as though he didn’t know exactly where she lived. His own family didn’t live in the city anymore, having moved when he graduated high school. But Calum could’ve guessed Lorraine’s house was still here. Although his and Adeline’s break up had hurt, it was still mutual. They could’ve tried harder to be friends. If texting and FaceTime hadn’t been enough to keep together their relationship, maybe it could’ve kept their friendship intact. So why hadn’t they tried?

        Calum kind of knew the answer.

        As pathetic as it was. . . It would’ve been too difficult to just stay friends with Adeline right after the break up.

        But he could’ve tried. Which was what he—both of them, really—was doing now.

        Taking a breath, he headed up the few steps leading to the front door, raising a hand and ringing the doorbell. When Adeline had texted him, asking him if he wanted to come over for lunch, Calum had stared at his phone for a solid ten minutes, unsure if what he was seeing was real, before snapping into action. He was glad she wasn’t able to sense his eagerness through a text message that said Sure, sounds great.

        The door swung open, and suddenly Calum felt like he was sixteen again and he’d stood on this very doorstep to pick Adeline up for their first date. Back then, they’d taken the subway to Coney Island and had spent all day on rides and eating junk food that made their stomachs hurt later. It had been so worth it.

        Now, Adeline stood in front of him in jeans and a blouse tucked in, cheeks pink and a smile on her face that Calum realized, not for the first time, still tugged at his heart. Against the afternoon sun, Calum could make out the dozens of freckles that dotted her skin; across the bridge of her nose and spreading on the apples of her cheeks, while also spreading up to decorate her forehead. They had dated, they were re-establishing a friendship that had been absent for six years, but Calum wasn’t that prideful that he could never admit how beautiful she was. Undoubtedly.

        Her brown hair tumbled past her shoulders in waves, smile bright as she greeted, “Hey.”

        Calum returned it, finding it a lot easier to do so than he expected. “Hi,” he said as Adeline opened the door wider for him to enter. He stepped through the threshold, a scent hitting him that launched him into the past. His gaze landed on the dish of pasta resting on the glass coffee table—she was as obsessed with pasta as he was—alongside a dish of vegetable gratin, and even a little bowl of guacamole with chips. Calum felt a faint smile tug at his lips before he looked at the pasta once more. Glancing down at her with a quirk of an eyebrow, he asked, “Is that three cheese lasagna I smell?”

        A laugh escaped Adeline as she shut the door, her own gaze darting to a bag he held in his left hand. “Only if that’s wine.”

        His smile widened a bit as he pulled out the bottle of red. He’d asked Adeline if she wanted him to bring anything, and she’d suggested wine if he was in the mood to drink it, so he swiped up a bottle on his way over. He remembered she enjoyed drinking it when it was just the two of them hanging right in this living room and Lorraine wasn’t around.

        “Your wish was my command,” he told her, earning a laugh from her.

        “Oh, crap, I forgot the wine glasses. Sit, I’ll be right back,” Adeline said, gesturing towards the couch before she went down the hall and around the corner where the kitchen was.

        Calum put the bottle down on the table, but instead of sitting, his gaze wandered around the living room. It hadn’t changed much since he’d last been there. There was a staircase directly ahead of the front door, about ten feet away, and to the right was the living room with a burnt red sectional facing the TV that was placed in a wooden unit, surrounded by books and picture frames and trinkets placed in the shelves.

        Calum’s gaze caught on the pictures, many of them consisting of Adeline and Lorraine, with a few photographs of Lorraine with Adeline’s mom, and of a toddler Adeline with her parents before they passed. A tightness locked in Calum’s throat as he gazed at her young, smiling face. She’d lost all of these people, all of her parents. He foolishly, unrealistically wanted to get rid of all the pain she had suffered—was suffering through.

        Just when he was about to turn away, something else snagged at Calum’s attention, and he felt his lips curling when he noted the marks on the strip of wall next to the window that faced the street. It was right in the corner where the two walls met as he approached, a small huff of a laugh escaping him as he recognized the markings.

        They started when Adeline was four, each marking higher than the next, rising with her age. The last one was put when she was seventeen, putting her height at 5’4”. That was seven years ago.

        “I haven’t grown an inch since I was seventeen,” came Adeline’s voice, and Calum turned to see her enter with two wine glasses in her hands. She stopped in front of the couch, her light brown eyes taking in the sight of him, and Calum willed his heart not to betray him now. Her lips curved up. “You, on the other hand, look like you hit puberty three times over.”

        A short laugh escaped Calum, hand rubbing the back of his neck and, for fuck’s sake, was he blushing? He couldn’t remember the last time he did that—

        Alright, he could. It was in high school—because of Adeline, no less.

        “I’ve always been taller than you,” Calum pointed out, pushing aside whatever the hell was going on in his chest as he walked over to her.

        Adeline’s smile was teasing and Calum wasn’t sure if he was remembering the moments of when they were friends or more. “Yeah, but I never had to crane my neck to look you in the eye,” she said with a light laugh.

        True, but Calum had always liked the way his body towered over hers. He’d loved it when her arms would wrap around his waist and she’d rest her cheek against his chest, and he’d be able to rest his chin on the top of her head. He loved it and he missed it.

        Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn’t handling this too well.

        Clearing his throat, Calum sat down on the couch, Adeline joining him, and he looked towards the food again. Almost tentatively, he asked, “Did you master Lorraine’s recipe?”

        She glanced towards the three cheese lasagna that waited before them, a small smile dancing on her lips. Three cheese lasagna was one of Lorraine’s famous dishes, and she would make it every time she knew Calum was coming over when they were in high school. It had easily become one of his favorite dishes and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until now, until it was waiting for him and he could smell the delicious aroma.

        “According to her, I did,” Adeline told him, and he recognized the longing mixed with sorrow in her voice, though the small smile remained on her face. She picked up the plates, handing one to him as she said, “Let’s see what you think.”

        He made sure to get a little bit of everything Adeline had made onto his plate as she poured the wine, and Calum couldn’t help the small smile that danced on his lips when he brought a forkful of lasagna to his mouth, aware of Adeline’s eager eyes on him. The flavor exploded on his tongue, the taste of the cheesy pasta so achingly familiar, not even bothering to hold back the satisfied groan that escaped him.

        “This is fantastic, Adeline,” Calum praised, eyebrows rising as he looked at her, catching the relieved and thrilled grin on her face. With a smile, he told her, “You made Lorraine proud.”

        Her smile widened, and Calum knew he’d said the right thing. The two of them settled back on the couch, plates full, and as Adeline’s fork clinked against the plate, she said, “Go ahead. Ask me.”

        Calum looked at her. “Ask you what?”

        She shot him a knowing look, lips curving. “The question you’ve been dying to ask since I texted you about coming over.”

        If Calum had forgotten that Adeline knew him better than he thought, this would be a reminder. He scooped some guac up with a chip, looking down at his plate for a moment before meeting her patient gaze. She was right. There was a question in his head, begging to be asked, but he hadn’t wanted to jump the gun. But if Adeline already knew of his curiosity, might as well ask it.

        “How come you invited me over?”

        Her smile turned gentle, almost nostalgic, and Calum’s heart jumped. Her light brown eyes were sincere as she gazed at him, taking a deep breath before answering, “We’ve been. . . Out of each other’s lives for longer than we were ever in them. And that. . .” She frowned, giving a shake of her head. “I don’t like that. I hate that we just fell out of each other’s lives after we ended things, and I think it’s time we, you know, fixed that.” Her gaze turned almost hesitant, hopeful. “If you’re okay with it.”

        Adeline spoke quickly like Calum knew she did when she was nervous about something, wanting the words to get out before she could think twice about them. He noticed not because he noticed every little thing about her, but because he was hanging on to every word she said—hanging on to the fact that she, just like him, wanted to once again be a part of his life. To what extent, Calum didn’t know and he wasn’t about to ask. Not when this old thing was starting anew, not when she just left her fiancé. He was just so grateful that she seemed to be on the same train of thought as him.

        Then again, more often than not, they both always were.

        “I’m more than okay with it, Addie,” Calum told her, the nickname slipping out easily. Before he could talk himself out of it, he rested his fork on the plate and reached his right hand out, grasping Adeline’s left, and Calum wasn’t sure if that had been a good idea because as soon as his skin touched hers, the warmth spread through him like a wildfire, electricity sparking his veins and tingling to the tips of his toes. But he kept the easy smile on his face, focused on the way Adeline squeezed his hand, how hers seemed so small in comparison, and Calum’s heart was racing as he looked at her and told her what he’d been dying to say since the moment he recognized her in his bar. “I missed you.”

        He saw her throat work, her smile soft as she let out a relieved sigh. “I missed you too, Cal.”

        And then it was like there had been no time lost.

        As they ate, they talked about what had been going on in their lives for the past six years. He told her about buying the bar and starting up his business, and she told him the summers she spent traveling with Aunt Lorraine and getting a job at a top magazine. Calum told her about his dog, Duke, and Adeline had immediately said that next time lunch would be at his place so she could meet the little guy. They wisely stayed away from the topic of Adeline’s ex-fiancé and the whole wedding situation. Instead, they talked about moments of when they were in high school, the dumb shit they got caught up in—skipping out on classes or sometimes the whole day altogether, the soccer games he played in and she attended to watch. They even talked a bit about Lorraine, fond smiles on their faces and pain creeping into their eyes. He wanted to ease Adeline’s ache, wipe it from her face as they talked about lighter subjects.

        Too long. It had been too long since he saw her smile or heard her laugh. How could he have gone six years without it?

        As Adeline smiled against the rim of the glass, sipping her wine, something tightened in Calum’s chest. He’d never moved on from her, despite believing that he did. The years he spent in the beds of different women and in relationships that never went anywhere should’ve been proof enough. It didn’t click until he was right there, sitting with her, remembering all of the reasons why he fell in love with her in the first place. Dating her for a little over two years felt like nothing compared to the lifetime they’d assumed they had.

        A lifetime she was so, so close to spending with someone else. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to focus on the profound and selfish relief at that very fact not coming to fruition.

        Even if he wanted to break her fiancé’s nose for hurting her.

        Calum had been at Adeline’s place for over two hours already. They’d finished lunch and were sipping from their wine as Calum finished up telling her about a Coldplay concert he had attended a little while back with Luke, Michael and Ashton.

        “I can’t lie—I’m kind of jealous,” Adeline mused once he was done, sitting with her back against the arm rest, left leg folded under her as the right hung off the couch, facing him.

        Calum’s right arm was resting on top of the couch, left hand gripping his nearly empty glass. “Because of the concert?” he asked with a light laugh.

        “Well, that too,” Adeline replied with a gentle roll of her eyes. “But mostly because, I don’t know, you’re still friends with Luke and Mike after high school and you and I aren’t. Or weren’t,” she corrected, shifting nervously where she sat as the smile on Calum’s face slightly faltered. “I mean, obviously the circumstances were different but I just—I don’t know, I wish it wouldn’t have been painful to stay friends after we broke up, you know?”

        She stumbled over her words, but Calum understood what she was trying to say all the same. Of course, he did—he felt the exact same way. And it was a relief to know she shared that sentiment with him. “Yeah,” Calum said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears. He cleared his throat lightly before saying, “We can’t change the past, but I’m more than ready to make up for the years we lost.”

        Her smile brightened her face and Calum could never get enough of it. Adeline sat up, leaning forward and holding her glass up. “Here’s to unplanned, but wholly welcome, reunions,” she declared, grin wide and eyes glimmering. Calum clinked his glass with hers before sipping his wine, gaze never leaving Adeline’s as he drank.

        When it was nearing five, Calum knew it was time to go, given that he had a shift soon at the bar. He was reluctant to leave, stalling by helping Adeline in bringing all of the dishes back into the kitchen. If she knew that’s what he was doing, she didn’t comment on it. Too soon, she was walking Calum to the door, their time together—for now—coming to an end. In his hand, he held a bag with a couple of Tupperware inside, filled with the leftovers of the delicious food she’d made.

        “Thanks for lunch, Addie,” Calum said as he faced her, back to the door as he looked down at her.

        Adeline smiled, brown hair framing her face as she slid her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, shoulders lifting. “Thanks for coming,” she returned.

        A question danced on Calum’s tongue, one he hadn’t asked anyone in years—one that was reserved just for Adeline because it had always been their thing. He wasn’t sure if he should voice it now, but maybe the nostalgia, or the excitement of finally, finally, finally seeing her again got to him. So Calum tilted his head ever so slightly, a half smile curving at his lips as he lifted his chin a bit. “So, when can I see you again?”

        Adeline’s eyes widened, grinning lips parting as she gaped up at him in absolute delight. Calum’s stomach tumbled. “Oh, my God—you didn’t,” she laughed, leaning forward slightly as she did so as one hand ran through her hair. Calum joined in on her laughter, admiring the flush of her cheeks. It was probably the wine, but he hoped it was a little bit because of him, too. “Wow, that—I haven’t heard that in a while.”

        It was silly, silly thing between them, dating back to the night of their first date when they returned from Coney Island and Calum had walked her right up to this door. He’d asked her, then, when can I see you again? and Adeline humbled him by letting out a laugh, as if it was the funniest thing he’d said because who even asks that anymore? before giving a teasing response of, Monday morning, by my locker.

        Ever since then, whenever they had a date night and he would drop her home, he’d end the night with that question. Sometimes it had ended up with Adeline sneaking him up to her room. Most of the times, she would give the same response—

        “Inevitably, in your dreams.”

        Calum’s heart jumped to his throat when he heard her utter those four words, the same teasing glint in her eyes he grew familiar with years ago. It had been a promise between them, a reassurance.

        Who fucking knew it would become a reality for some nights for the past six years?

        Adeline was smiling, biting her lower lip. Calum’s mouth was dry. He hadn’t felt this way since, well, since Adeline. What a dangerous, dangerous game they were playing.

        Willing himself to snap out of it, Calum returned her smile with a breathy chuckle, fighting the urge to clear his throat and indicate just how much of an effect her words had on him. He felt warm as he stepped forward, holding his arm out as he said, “Bye, Addie.”

        She closed the gap by returning his hug, fitting right under his chin as Calum rested it atop her head, and he found himself closing his eyes as she invaded his senses. Adeline could probably feel his heart thundering under the cotton material of his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was the aching familiarity of her body against his, even in a hug, how warm and fitting she was. The scent of coconuts danced in his nose—fuck, she even smelled the same, terribly dizzying.

        It dawned on him, then, how much he could miss her and only realizing the extent the moment he finally held her in his arms again.

        Calum wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, hugging each other for the first time in years. The past two weeks or so since she walked into his bar, they’d only seen each other three times in total, most of their tentative communication being done so through texts. They never got to hug—not until now. Calum didn’t think he’d be forgetting the way her arms wrapped around his waist any time soon. Not that he would want to.

        Eventually, they moved to pull away, but their movements were slow, stalling. And they didn’t pull away—not all the way. Adeline’s arms remained around Calum’s waist, only lifting her head off his chest, and he only moved his head to look down at her, his own arm still embracing her shoulders. They were close—close enough for Calum to count all of her freckles if they had the time, close enough for him to see the two flecks of dark brown in the right iris of her light brown eyes without the help of the sun, close enough to feel her breath fanning against his lips, just like he knew his was against hers as well.

        What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing? The voice in the back of his head was loud, insistent, most likely reasonable in its questions and yet Calum silenced it for now. He couldn’t think of anything but Adeline, her coconut scent wrapping around him like a childhood blanket as his forehead pressed against hers.

        He watched her gaze drop, watched as it landed on his lips as her eyelashes grazed the tops of her cheeks, their noses brushing together. It hurt—his heart hurt because of how heavy and tight the longing was, how desperately he wanted to close the remaining distance between them and see if her lips felt the same way they had when they were teenagers. The air between them crackled like it had so many years ago, and that had to mean something, right?

        Calum squeezed his eyes shut, jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth together. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to so badly—but he couldn’t. In those stretching moments, Calum felt like he was at war with his head and his heart, wanting to so desperately kiss her but knowing he shouldn’t. They’d just gotten each other back and Adeline—she’d just been engaged just a few weeks ago. He didn’t want their first kiss to be a result of overwhelming nostalgia, didn’t want there to be any lingering pain for Adeline. He wanted to do it right, if it were to happen again. And right now, this—this wasn’t right.

        His body roared in protest, but Calum kept himself grounded with a tight grip on the bag in his hand as he dropped his other arm from around Adeline, swallowing thickly as he pulled his head away from hers while murmuring a quiet, “I should go.”

        Adeline blinked quickly, arms limply dropping to her sides as she looked up at him. She seemed dazed, almost, before pulling herself back and Calum hated to see the disappointment she was hiding in her eyes. Adeline stepped back, her hands sliding down her thighs as she nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, throwing a quick smile his way. Calum didn’t try to see if it reached her eyes, he already knew the answer. “I’ll see you later.”

        Calum nodded, turning away to open the door, the late afternoon sun now bathing the homes across the street in golden. He stepped outside, glancing over at Adeline once more as he said, “Bye, Adeline.”

        She smiled again, this time softer, holding the door as she gazed at him. His heart jumped at the look in her eyes, gentle and. . . Longing. “Bye, Calum.”

        He went down the steps, not looking back even when he heard the click of the door shut. The smell of coconuts followed him all the way home.

*****

        “So I did something stupid.”

        Dr. Boocz raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

        “Well, I almost did something stupid,” Adeline amended, twisting her lips to the side. “But it was something you definitely told me not to do. Remember how you told me to, y’know, take things slowly? After I told you I wanted to reconnect with Calum?”

        Realization flickered across Dr. Boocz’s face. “Yes, I remember.”

        Adeline chewed on the inside of her cheek, lips puckering as she scrounged up the courage to talk about what the fuck she’d almost done just two days ago. It was all she could think about, having blurted it out to Gabby when she’d gotten home from work that night. Her best friend had been both amused and unimpressed, saying something about how it was bound to happen. That hadn’t helped. Adeline had then proceeded to finish the rest of the wine bottle Calum had brought before drowning in her conflicted feelings. She wasn’t sure if the mild hangover the next day was because of the wine or her thoughts.

        “I invited Calum over for lunch and we got to talking. Just, like, reminiscing old times and stuff and catching each other up on the past few years,” Adeline explained, twisting her fingers in her lap.

        A small smile curved at Dr. Boocz’s lips. “And how was that?”

        “Really fucking good,” Adeline breathed out with a smile. And it had been—God, it felt so good to sit and just talk with Calum, to be in his company. She’d missed it, missed him, so damn much. How had she gone six years without it? She didn’t think she could do that again. “It felt like we never left each other. It was so comfortable and normal and just like it used to be. But then, right before he left. . .” Dr. Boocz remained silent, patiently waiting. Adeline let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the plush couch as she confessed, “We almost kissed.”

        Dr. Boocz raised her eyebrows. “But you didn’t?”

        “No,” Adeline answered, the word semi bitter in her mouth.

        Her therapist, of course, noticed. “How do you feel about almost kissing Calum?”

        Adeline swallowed, picking at invisible lint from her jeans. “Disappointed but. . . Also relieved.” Knowing Dr. Boocz was going to ask why Adeline felt like that, she continued on. “I want to move on from Ian, and even though it hasn’t been that long, I don’t spend every minute raging about what he did. But it’s still, like, fresh. And kissing Calum would just—it wouldn’t be smart,” she reluctantly admitted. “And it wouldn’t be fair.”

        “To him or to you?”

        “Both,” Adeline said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get into anything, serious or otherwise, without completely being rid of Ian and any lingering feelings I may have.” Her jaw tightened, the mere thought of her heard harboring any feelings for him making her irritated, even if it was expected. They’d been together for three years, after all—she had said yes to spending the rest of her life with him. “And Calum, he. . . He deserves better than that. I won’t do that to—I won’t hurt him.”

        Dr. Boocz considered her words before asking, “Who stopped the kiss from happening? You or Calum?”

        Adeline’s eyebrow quirked. “Calum.”

        “It’s important that you realize you recognized how kissing him could’ve complicated things,” Dr. Boocz said. “Thinking about both yourself and Calum and what the potential result of a spontaneous kiss like that could be is good work, Adeline. And in terms of you not wanting to hurt Calum. . . There’s a chance he may have stopped anything from happening because he understood where you were at. He respected you enough to stop before it got too complicated.”

        Adeline’s heart jumped at that. She could easily believe that, where Calum was concerned. He’d always been so receptive of others, could read them so well. Still, with a short laugh, Adeline dryly said, “Or maybe he just didn’t want to kiss me.”

        Dr. Boocz cracked another smile. “I don’t think even you believe that.” Adeline’s cheeks flushed and Dr. Boocz let out a gentle laugh. “You didn’t do anything stupid, Adeline,” she then said, responding to the statement Adeline had made earlier. “You were acting on your feelings—there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone does it. My advice to you is still the same: take things slowly and focus on yourself, whatever that may mean for you, healthily. There’s nothing wrong with reconnecting with Calum. From what you said, he was an important part of your life, and seeking him out after losing another important part is normal—”

        “I’m not, like, trying to replace Ian with him or anything,” Adeline quickly said, hoping she hadn’t given that impression. That made it sound like Calum was some kind of rebound, which he absolutely wasn’t. He was. . . He was Calum. He belonged to a part of her life that was meant just for him, and now he was reclaiming it.

        “I know,” Dr. Boocz nodded and Adeline believed her. “Life just happened to work out this way when it led you to Calum’s bar after leaving your wedding with Ian. Calum was your friend before he was anything else, right? Finding a friend in him again is normal. If it evolves into something more, and if you feel that you’re confident in letting go of Ian, then you do what’s best for you.”

        Adeline rolled her lips into her mouth, nodding along slowly to Dr. Boocz’s words. She was silent for a moment, mulling over what she’d heard, before another thought crept into her mind, one she thought about often since seeing Calum again. Looking at her therapist, Adeline said, “I think about Aunt Lorraine a lot when I’m with Calum.”

        Granted, she’d only been in Calum’s presence less than a handful of times, but that didn’t make what she said any less true.

        Dr. Boocz tilted her head, a gentle softness in her eyes upon hearing the mention of Adeline’s aunt. “How so?”

        “She liked him a lot,” Adeline said, a small yet fond smile curling at her lips. “I didn’t date that many guys before Calum, but Aunt Lorraine didn’t think any of them were anything special. It was different with Calum. She. . .” Adeline bit her lower lip, a familiar ache clenching at her heart. “She wasn’t like that even with Ian.”

        “She approved of Calum.”

        “She did. They got along well—they were like friends, you know? Calum and I talked about her when he came over for lunch and it just—it felt good to talk about her with someone who knew her kind of like I did,” Adeline explained, thinking of the conversations they had. She remembered the fondness in Calum’s eyes as he talked about Aunt Lorraine, how she was the first adult in his life that let him have a beer in her presence, how she didn’t treat him like a child like every other adult in his life did. Aunt Lorraine was always popular with Adeline’s friends. It’s why everyone loved her.

        “I mean, I can talk to Gabby about her, but Calum had known Aunt Lorraine since he was, like, sixteen. There’s more history there so I feel like he just. . . He gets it more.”

        Dr. Boocz nodded along. “Is it easier to talk about her with him?”

        Adeline thought about it for a moment. In the dark of her room at night, of course the tears came a lot faster when she thought of her aunt, when she thought about the fact that she lost the only parent she’d ever known. She had been so young when she lost her parents and because of that, their loss, although sad, didn’t inject Adeline with a paralyzing pain. Not the way Aunt Lorraine’s death did.

        Talking to Gabby about Aunt Lorraine helped; her best friend had some of her own fond memories with the woman. But the pain always threatened to overwhelm Adeline. But even though she only talked about Aunt Lorraine, in depth, with Calum once, it had felt. . . Doable. The pain was present, but it didn’t burn her like all of the times before. She didn’t understand it, but she appreciated it, nonetheless. Maybe it was because of how much Aunt Lorraine adored Calum, and how it wasn’t one sided. She was the only parent Adeline had, and even before they dated, Calum had been determined to get on her good side. It had been effortless for him—it even took Michael and Luke a minute to get on Aunt Lorraine’s good side.

        So yeah. It was easier to talk about Aunt Lorraine with Calum. Everything, Adeline knew, had always been easier with Calum.

*****

Hey, I know it’s last minute but it’s Ash’s birthday tomorrow so we’re gonna be pregaming at the bar at 8 and then going to the Blue Ribbon if you wanted to come?

        The second Calum had sent that text the night before, he’d let out a sharp breath as the panicked voice in the back of his head demanded to know what the hell he was doing. He’d offhandedly asked his friends if it was alright if he extended the invitation to Adeline, and they all replied their agreements, and Calum had ignored the knowing looks in the boys’ eyes as he texted Adeline. When she had replied that she would be down to go, relief and nerves pinched Calum’s stomach.

        Truly—what was he doing?

        It had been a week since Calum saw Adeline—through no doing of their own. Work kept both of them busy, honestly, so they hadn’t been able to see each other since he had lunch at her place. Calum wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not, after their almost-kiss. When they texted throughout the days, everything seemed normal; neither of them brought up what had happened, and Calum didn’t know if either of them would. He realized that he was fine if they didn’t talk about it. They could blame it on emotions running high after their proclaimed reunion, they could blame it on the wine, whatever. So long as it didn’t seriously fuck up them finally being in each other’s lives again, Calum was fine.

        That didn’t mean his heart didn’t jump every time her name flashed across his screen. He felt like a teenager again.

        It was nothing compared to the feeling of seeing Adeline walk into his bar around 8:10, tight black jeans with a mesh top hugging her figure as her brown hair fell down her back like damn waterfall. Her grin was bright as she spotted them at the bar, walking over as they all greeted her over the music playing and she gave Ashton a hug while wishing him a happy birthday.

        Adeline came to stand next to him, the heels she wore giving her some height, as she looked up at him with a smile. “Hey, Cal,” she greeted softly, bumping her hip with his.

        And just like that, any tension in Calum’s body eased as he returned the smile effortlessly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her in for a side hug. Her own arm went around his waist. “Want a drink?”

        “Shots first!” Sierra exclaimed and upon everyone’s agreements, Calum lined up eight shot glasses and picked up the bottle of vodka, filling them up quickly and efficiently.

        They all clinked their glasses together, some of the drinks spilling over, before quickly downing them. Calum welcomed the burn in his throat that was already numbing, and as he put the glass down, he realized his arm was still around Adeline’s shoulders. Hers was still around his waist. Neither of them made the move to let go, and suddenly Calum’s body felt warm not from the alcohol he’d consumed, but because of the woman standing so close to him.

        He tried not to think too much of it. Though, that was a bit difficult given that Ashton, Luke, and Michael seemed to be eyeing them both knowingly. Calum regretted telling them of his slip up at Adeline’s house.

        They stayed at the bar for about an hour before deciding to head out to the Blue Ribbon, and Calum informed his assistant manager, of his departure before following his friends out of his busy bar. The eight of them, rather than taking an Uber, headed toward the 28th street station, going down the steps in a flurry of animated chatter with Metro cards in hands before waiting on the platform for the R train.

        They had a couple of minutes, and Calum’s gaze swept over to Adeline. She was leaning against a beam, a fond, somewhat tipsy smile on her face given that she’d taken a bunch of shots, listening to everyone chattering instead of engaging in it. Even standing there, under the harsh lights of the humid subway station, Adeline looked beautiful. So effortlessly did she rob Calum of his breath in a way no one had ever been able to, and Calum wondered if she was even aware of it.

        He walked over to her, leaning on the left side of the beam with his shoulder, peering down at her shorter frame. With an amused smile tilting at his lips, he asked, “You doin’ okay?”

        Adeline lifted her head and smiled up at him, a light laugh escaping her. “Totally,” she nodded and then huffed. “But it’s so hot in here.” Her brown eyes gave him a once over before meeting his gaze again. “How are you not sweating in that?”

        She was referring to the leather jacket he wore, which was a fair enough question. But the jacket was some kind of comfort that he wore when he went out on nights like these. “We’ll be in an air conditioned train soon, Addie,” he assured her with a chuckle.

        Adeline wrinkled her nose. “Unless it’s one of those shitty old ones that haven’t been renovated since the dawn of man.”

        “Oh, you’re not fun,” Crystal’s voice rang out, nudging Michael where they stood. Her blue eyes then found Calum and Adeline, and she brightened as she said, “Adeline—you’ll dance with us, right? Mike would rather be up there with the DJ than on the dance floor.”

        With a laugh that was drowned out by the approaching train, Adeline answered reassuringly, “Until my feet fall off.”

        The trip to the club wasn’t long, but the three minute subway ride seemed to drag on as he sat next to Adeline, their thighs pressed together, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm with every rattle of the train. But she was engaged in a conversation with Kaykay, and Calum was doing his best to not focus on how the warmth her touch gave him was much more preferred than the warmth of whatever alcohol was humming through his veins.

        Sometimes, he felt as though his lips were still humming from their near kiss.

        Calum clenched his hands into fists on top of his knees. He needed to get a fucking grip. He was losing himself; he could tell. And yet, even knowing that, he wasn’t that wary of it. All thanks to Adeline.

The short subway ride was followed by a five minute walk, and because they knew the right people, they were allowed right into the Blue Ribbon instead of having to wait in the queue outside. They walked up the steps and through the heavy drapes, the music thumping against the walls as they stepped into the main part of the club, the lighting an ever-present dim with the appropriate blues and purples flashing. Couches surrounded tables along the walls, and their group approached the one reserved for them as the women who worked there walked around carried several bottles topped with sparklers as people around them danced.

        As soon as they got to their table, the drinks were brought out, and when Calum moved to pour them for everyone, Luke swatted him away. “You’re always serving us, man. Chill,” he said with a laugh and Calum rolled his eyes, though the smile danced on his lips as he watched his friend pour more shots.

        The shots were taken right after cheering to Ashton’s birthday, their laughter nearly drowned out by the upbeat music blaring around them. Their table and sitting area were on a higher platform, but people were all around dancing, the DJ’s booth set up a few feet away to their left and the bar opposite of them, separated by dancing bodies.

        It didn’t take long for the girls to want to dance, and Calum watched with a small smile as Sierra grabbed Adeline’s hand and the two of them followed Kaykay and Crystal to dance, Ashton and Luke joining them. There wasn’t that much space right by their area on the platform, so his gaze trailed after them as they headed down the couple of steps for more room.

        “So—question,” Michael spoke up from where he sat next to him, sipping whatever mixed drink he created for himself. “Are you gonna ask Adeline out again, or are you gonna do what you did in high school and crush on her for two years before finding the balls to do it?”

        Calum pursed his lips after swallowing his own drink. He settled for a glass of whiskey that he planned to stretch out throughout the night. The shots they’d taken hummed in his veins and he could feel the lightheaded effects of them, but he didn’t plan on getting shit faced tonight, even if it was one of his best friends’ birthday.

        But he shot Michael a flat look, suppressing a sigh at the mention of his teenage behavior. He’d endured Luke and Michael’s teasing when it came to Adeline, fully aware of his feelings for her but never acting on them—until he did.

        With the rest of their friends busy dancing and the loud music serving as a tool for privacy, Calum let out a sigh. He looked down at his glass, the amber liquid looking darker thanks to the lack of light in the club, elbows resting on his knees as he ducked his head to mess with his hair. “I don’t know if asking her out would be a good idea,” Calum admitted, the words more bitter in his mouth than the drink he nursed.

        “How come?” Michael eyes, green eyes near translucent under the flashing lights. “Didn’t you guys, I dunno, have a moment the other day? Ask me, that’s not just a slip.”

        Calum licked his lips, tasting the spicy whiskey as his gaze wandered to where he could see Adeline dancing with their friends. He caught glimpses of her between people, but the smile on her face was too bright to ignore. Her brown hair danced with her and the lights made her skin glow—he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The day at her house. . . That wasn’t a slip.

        And maybe it was the sense of security Calum felt being in the blustering club, too loud and noisy. Maybe it was the fact that Adeline was too far away to have a chance of hearing Calum’s most inner, desperate thoughts. Or maybe it was that Michael, other than Luke, was the only one who knew Calum and Adeline’s history well. Maybe it was just the alcohol giving him courage.

        But Calum found his voice lowering, too quiet for this roaring setting, but enough for just Michael to hear as he said through a dry throat, “There’s never been anyone after Adeline.” He could feel Michael’s gaze on him, but Calum kept his eyes glued to his ex-girlfriend, who was laughing as Luke spun her around in a twirl. Calum was hit with the urge to go down there and dance with her. “Over these past few years, every time I tried to start something with someone new, I’d always go back to her. And now she’s back and I just. . . I don’t want there to be anyone else. Nothing felt right—not like my relationship with her did.”

        “If you knew what—who—you want, then what’s stopping you?” Michael inquired, not unkindly. His friends, Calum knew, sometimes had a hard time figuring him out. Truthfully, the boys were some of the very few people who knew Calum inside and out. They were who Calum was a hundred percent comfortable being himself with, and Adeline used to—still does?—fall into that category. Even so, sometimes his boys couldn’t quite decipher Calum’s feelings. Calum didn’t blame them; more often than not, he was in tuned with what and how he felt. But sometimes, even he couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on in his heart.

        Calum took a sip of his drink. The whiskey didn’t even burn anymore. With a dry laugh, he told Michael, “She just broke off a three year relationship, Mike.”

        “Yeah, like, over a month ago.”

        Calum scoffed in mild amusement at the frankness of Michael’s tone. “They were going to get married. I don’t think a month’s long enough to just move on from that.”

        “Why don’t you let her be the judge of that?” Michael retorted with a raise of an eyebrow. “Besides, the guy ended up being a total asshole, right? Trust me—knowing you broke it off with a shitty person sometimes speeds up the healing process.”

        As opposed to breaking it off with someone you still loved—that sort of thing you didn’t get over. Ask Calum; he was still more or less—okay, totally—in love with the same girl after six years.

        Admitting that wasn’t as emotionally difficult as Calum would have thought. God, he was fucked.

        “Still—I don’t want to rush her or anything,” Calum said as a Travis Scott remix started playing. He frowned to himself then. “I’m not—I don’t even know if she would want to start anything with me. Being friends is one thing, but being in a relationship. . .”

        Calum trailed off, jaw tightening briefly as he watched Adeline sing along to the song, doing so right into Crystal’s camera as she recorded the two of them.

        He was vaguely aware of Michael watching him. Calum still couldn’t bring himself to look away from Adeline, and he heard Michael scoff. “Yeah, no. I don’t think you two can ever just be friends.”

        Despite himself, Calum snorted, lips curving wryly. He couldn’t help but agree.

        Their friends danced for a couple of more songs before they stepped back up onto the platform, smiles on their faces as Luke sat down diagonally of Calum and leaned forward to pour himself a drink. Adeline stood on the other side of the square table, hands on her hips as she looked down at Calum, unimpressed.

        “You’re so boring—why aren’t you dancing?”

        Calum was leaning back on the couch, drink still in the hand that rested atop his right knee, the ankle resting on his left knee. “When have I ever been known to dance, Addie?” he asked over the sound of the music.

        A small smirk tugged at her lips. Just like the rest of them, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her skin from the dancing and she’d gathered her hair over her shoulder. “When you’re drunk enough,” she answered knowingly. Ashton snickered, muttering she’s got a point as Calum rolled his eyes. “You’re not—”

        Her words cut off and Calum’s foot fell off his knee, ready to stand to help her catch her balance as someone accidentally bumped into her. But Crystal was right next to her, grabbing onto her arm, as the guy who bumped into her turned to look over. “Oh, my bad, I’m—you’re shitting me.”

        Calum’s eyebrows knitted together as the guy, with dark hair and about as tall as Ashton, scoffed when his gaze landed on an equally unpleasantly surprised Adeline. Calum noted the way she took a step back as she looked at him, and upon hearing the stranger’s words, their table fell silent despite the lively club around them.

        Something twisted in Calum’s gut, having a feeling that he knew exactly who this guy was by the darkened look on Adeline’s face. His thoughts were only confirmed when Adeline merely stated tightly, “Ian.”

        Calum could sense all of his friends tense, exchanging looks, as Calum’s own body tightened. There was a sharp, blinding urge to put as much space between Adeline and her ex-fiancé as he could manage. His grip on his glass tightened; there was also an urge to throw it at the guy’s face.

        So this was the asshole who fucked Adeline over, who wanted her only for what was in her wallet and not for who she was. The mere thought seemed unfathomable to Calum, but he figured not everyone was like that. He hated that Adeline was involved with someone as, well, despicable as Ian. Hated that she almost married the guy.

        From what Calum could tell through the flashing lights of the club, there was no longing in Ian’s face as he gazed at Adeline. Just pure distaste and anger. Sure, it probably didn’t feel great to be left at the altar, but it was kind of hypocritical, wasn’t it? Given that he was only in it to fatten up his own bank account. Ass-wipe.

        “Adeline,” Ian returned, and Calum recognized the tight, mocking tone he spoke in. It only made him all the more tense, ready to jump in. “How’s single life treating you?” His gaze gave their table a once over, unimpressed, before looking back at her. “Run out on any more weddings?”

        Her response was quick. “Only the one with you at the end of the altar.”

        Ian’s lips curled and even though the music was pounding as loudly as his own heart, Calum still listened intently as Ian lifted his chin. “You sound pretty proud for someone whose family has apologized more to me than you did.” He clicked his tongue, the sound barely registering. “You’ve become such a disappointment to all of them.”

        Calum recognized the scowls on all of his friends’ faces, and Luke, who sat closest to where Ian stood, looked about five seconds away from kicking Ian’s feet out from under him. If Ian’s words had an effect on Adeline, she didn’t show it. “You think I care what they think? You and them—you’re all the same: greedy for wanting what you’ll never have.” Her jaw tightened, eyes sharp and unforgiving. “I’ve got nothing to apologize to you for. You were only looking out for yourself—you don’t get to be pissed that I did the same for myself.”

        There was a swell of pride in Calum’s chest as he listened to Adeline stand up for herself, to be utterly unapologetic for what she did. Leaving Ian when she found out the truth hurt her, Calum knew, but he also knew it was far better than remaining oblivious and going through with the wedding, only to find out the truth later. She had saved herself from more pain than what she already went through.

        The second Calum saw Ian’s eyes flash—and not from the trick of the lights—he was on his feet, glass on the table. He could feel some pairs of eyes on him, but his hardened gaze was on Ian as he took a threatening step towards Adeline and snarled, “I wasted three fucking years on—”

        “That’s enough,” Calum interrupted, arriving at Adeline’s side. She didn’t need him fighting her battles for her, he knew, but Calum couldn’t sit back and let this motherfucker talk to her like she was beneath him. He was physically incapable of it. So Calum took a step between them, and instantly Ian’s gaze went to him, the anger at Adeline and interruption not well received. Calum stared him down, jaw tight. “I’d walk away if I were you.”

        Ian scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe Calum’s audacity. Calum couldn’t help the slight machoistic and smug feeling of being taller than him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

        Calum felt a hand on his arm. “Calum—” Adeline started, not to give Ian his name but to probably tell Calum that it wasn’t worth it.

        But she didn’t get to finish, because recognition instantly flickered across Ian’s face upon hearing his name. He let out an unsurprised guffaw, clapping his hands together once as he looked at the two of them. Calum didn’t move, shoulders squared, as a new kind of aggravation settled in Ian’s eyes. Looking at Calum, Ian scoffed. “So you’re the infamous ex she’s been hung up over.” Ian clicked his tongue. Calum’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Gotta tell you, man, you raised her standards a bit too high. But it seemed to work out for you two, didn’t it?” His hateful gaze flickered down to look at Adeline, who now stood at Calum’s side. Ian’s lips curled into a bland smirk. “Walked out of our wedding just to jump right back into his bed, huh? Doesn’t fucking surprise me in the least.”

        Adeline was tense beside him, and Calum’s own anger was simmering in his blood at the blatant disrespect. More than anything, he wanted to connect his fist to Ian’s jaw, wanted to knock him right on his ass for the way he was talking to and looking at Adeline. But he knew the second he did that, he’d lose Adeline’s respect. And no matter how much he wanted to break Ian’s nose, it wouldn’t be worth it.

        So he clenched his fists, fighting the urge, teeth aching from how tightly he was pressing them together. But there was deathly calm look in Calum’s eyes that presented itself in the anger he felt, his gaze never wavering from Ian’s. “Walk away, Ian. It would be the smart thing for you to do—trust me.”

        Ian’s lips curled into a sneer, harsh gaze remaining on Adeline before he stood straight. He let out a scoff with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, I was just heading out. Wouldn’t wanna be caught dead in the same place as her.”

        And then he was gone, and Calum’s blood was still boiling. But he focused on Adeline instead, who was still staring after the direction Ian had walked and disappeared from, and he couldn’t get a good read on her expression. Adeline took in a sharp breath then, blinking as if she was tying herself back into reality, and looked past Calum towards where their friends were silently sitting.

        “I’m so sorry about that, you guys,” Adeline said, her voice thick as she looked at all of their worried faces. Calum knew, just then, she was holding back her emotions. The encounter affected her more than she was letting on. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Just—please—don’t let it screw up this night.”

        Calum had the urge to hold her hand—to hold her—when he realized Adeline needed the reassurance that what just happened didn’t, in fact, mess up anyone’s mood. And Ashton seemed to realize that, too, as he spoke up in that reassuring tone of his, “It didn’t, Adeline. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. We’re not gonna let some asshole ruin the night.”

        And given that this night was to celebrate him, Ashton’s words seemed to have a calming effect on Adeline as her shoulders sank a bit, a small smile on her lips. “I’m, uh,” she ran her fingers through her hair, taking a breath. “I’m gonna get a drink from the bar.”

        She turned quickly, walking off the platform and towards the bar. Calum kept track of her as she went, his jaw still tight, as he heard Kaykay ask, “Is she alright?”

        Calum glanced back at them, pursing his lips. “I’ll check on her.” He turned to go before pausing and looking at them once more, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “Just—don’t look so focused on her. Dance. Drink. Pretend that shit didn’t just happen.”

        He left then, wandering down the steps and making his way through the crowd as he approached the bar where he caught Adeline leaning against it. Calum was vaguely aware of a guy or two nearby glancing over at her, probably debating on whether to approach her. He killed their train of thought by sliding up next to her and asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

        Adeline faced him, left elbow propped on top of the glass bar as she looked up at him with eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Angry tears. “I want to rip his eyes out with my bare hands,” Adeline seethed, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her this pissed off before.

        Calum glanced down at her fingers, noting the pointed ends of her maroon painted nails. “You’d be able to do some damage,” he pointed out with a quirk of his eyebrows.

        “I mean—” Adeline scoffed in disbelief, before looking away and sniffling, shaking her head. “Who the fuck does he think he is? Treating me like I’m the bad guy in this whole thing? He hasn’t even fessed up to his bullshit manipulation even though I heard him myself and he’s trying to make it seem like I ran out on him without precedence?” The incredulity was heavy in her voice as she ranted quickly, and if Calum dug deeper, he could hear the hurt, too. But none of it was as prevalent as the anger. “And then bringing you into it—God, I hate him. I really think I do.”

        The bartender placed a drink in front of Adeline. Calum recognized it as Hennessy and Coke. Looking at her, he said, “No one would blame you if you do.”

        Adeline’s hand wrapped around the glass, another scoff escaping her, this time with a wry smile. “No one except for my beloved family,” she said. Calum clenched his jaw. There was a reason why Calum only ever met one other member of Adeline’s family. The rest were, like she always said, vultures. No wonder they sided with Ian in this whole ordeal. Adeline’s jaw worked as she looked down at her drink, shaking her head absently. “Aunt Lorraine was right. I never should’ve let it get so far with Ian.” She brought the glass up, sipping through the straw before muttering absently, “Total downgrade.”

        Calum wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to hear that, but he did even over the sound of the thumping bass, and it had his heart skipping a beat as he watched her. Suddenly he felt as though he needed a drink, shuffling closer to Adeline when someone bumped into his back.

        The movement had Adeline looking up at him, throat working. “You didn’t have to jump in but, um, thanks, Calum. I appreciated it,” she said, her words bringing him a sense of relief he didn’t know he needed. He was just glad she wasn’t bothered that he got in between them.

        He offered a half smile, lifting one shoulder. “It was instinct,” he told her truthfully. Adeline’s gaze met his again, and Calum’s chest felt warm. “Someone was being a dick to you—I couldn’t just sit and watch it happen. I know you’re capable of defending yourself, but it doesn’t mean you have to.”

        She smiled then, grateful and adoring. They were silent for a moment, watching the ongoings around them, and Calum kept his gaze away because he could feel Adeline’s on him. Keeping his expression neutral had never felt so difficult. “Thanks for not bringing it up.”

        He dragged his gaze back to her then, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Bringing what up?”

        Adeline smiled wryly. “What Ian said—about you being the ex I’ve been hung up on.”

        Calum had a feeling if Adeline really focused, she’d be able to hear the way his heart picked up even under all the noise of the boisterous club. That statement from Ian hadn’t slipped Calum’s mind, turning it over and over as he already started analyzing it. Although his posture was casual—slightly bent to rest his right elbow on the bar top, leaning against it—Calum felt anything but.

        Somehow, he found the nerve to ask, “Was there any truth in what he said?”

        He could’ve sworn he detected some nervousness in her gaze as she peered up at him, free hand fiddling with the thin black straw in her glass. “What do you think?” she asked instead.

        “I don’t wanna answer that,” Calum told her with a short chuckle. “It’ll only make it sound like I’ve got an overinflated sense of self-worth in your life.”

        His response, for whatever reason, made Adeline grin around her straw, lifting her chin as she kept her gaze on him. She pushed herself away from the bar, moving to walk past him into the direction of where their friends were. But she paused briefly to say, “Your sense of self-worth in my life is exactly what it is.” Calum’s teeth pressed together, inhaling sharply as that glimmer returned in her eyes. Her smile was teasing, but her eyes were honest. “It might actually be more.”

        And then she was walking, and Calum was left staring at her dumbly for a moment. He was an idiot if he ever thought he’d move on from her.

        He joined all of them quickly after, and the night fortunately continued as if Ian’s interruption never happened. Calum even let Adeline drag him onto his feet to dance some, ignoring the need to have her closer to him than she was while they danced.

        Most of the night, though, they spent at their table with glasses in hands and their chatter creating a cacophony with the music playing. Adeline ended up sitting on top of the couch, leaning her back against the wall the couch was up against. And Calum was sitting on the couch itself, glass once again in hand as he leaned back on the couch, his body framed by Adeline’s legs.

        Nobody blinked twice when Adeline’s fingers started playing with Calum’s blonde hair, the dark roots gradually growing in. Nobody found it odd that when Adeline wanted to speak directly to Calum, one of her hands found its way under his chin from where she sat above him, and gave his head a tilt until he was looking up at her and she was leaning down to speak to him over the loud music, her hair sometimes framing them—shielding them from others’ views. Nobody made comments when Calum’s left arm wrapped around Adeline’s left leg, fingers trailing from her knee to her ankle and up again through the material of her pants.

        It looked right. It felt right. So they let it be.

        And Calum, for the first time in six years, felt what it was like to once again be complete.

*****

        The smell of earth—damp mud and wet grass—tickled Adeline’s nose as a gentle breeze kissed her skin where she stood on the spacious back porch of the lake house. She gripped the wooden railing as she took in the lake before her, glimmering under the early afternoon sun, the leaves of trees surrounding it whispering against one another in the wind. The smell of the city after a rain shower was different than the smells that rose at the lake house—and Adeline had missed this.

        She kind of hated that she had hesitated so much on returning here since emptying Aunt Lorraine’s ashes, but after the shit show on Ashton’s birthday with Ian last week, Adeline’s need for a vacation had multiplied tenfold. And the only place she could think of to go to was the beloved lake house. She didn’t want to go alone, though, so she told all of the guys and the girls to come if they wanted. The lake house had five bedrooms because this had been a place where Aunt Lorraine would come to with her friends for mini girls trips—it was one of the reasons why she bought it, other than to get out of the city with Adeline when it got too much—so there was enough rooms for all of them if they shared.

        They were going to make a long weekend out of it, arriving on Friday and then leaving Sunday. But because nobody had been at the lake house for two months, Adeline figured there would be some cleaning to do despite most of the furniture being covered in sheets. So she drove the hour and a half drive out of the city on Thursday, a whole day before everyone was set to arrive, to tidy the place up.

        And adjust to being there without Aunt Lorraine.

        Adeline had already gotten started in cleaning up the living room and kitchen, putting away the sheets that covered the couches and tables and using the appropriate supplies to rid of any dust that had settled. The lake house was lovely, built with wood and stones of different shades of brown and grey, wooden beams supporting the structure. The walls of the living room had large windows that gave a view of the lake in the back, smaller windows in the connecting kitchen to provide the same view. There was no formal dining room, instead a picnic bench style dining table was set up in the living room.

        A TV was mounted on the wall with the fireplace underneath, and in the corner was a liquor cabinet Adeline had stocked upon her arrival—along with making sure the fridge and kitchen itself had food and drinks for her and her friends. She’d connected the TV to Spotify and was playing music to fill the silence while she cleaned, knowing if it was too quiet, she would lose herself in nostalgic thoughts she didn’t quite want to revisit.

        Adeline was about two hours into cleaning when, through one of the further back windows, she saw a car pull into the driveway. She shut off the vacuum, eyebrows furrowing together at the unfamiliar vehicle, before her heart jumped at the sight of Calum stepping out. She had given all of her friends the address of the lake house, but they weren’t due until tomorrow.

        Hastily, Adeline approached the door, pausing to peer down at her denim shorts and oversized grey Santa Cruz hoodie in a moment of insecurity. It left as quickly as it came, realizing that Calum had seen her at her worst while they were dating and, well, it was Calum. So she opened the door right as he was about five feet away from it, a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

        “You’re about a day early,” she said by way of greeting, though there was no stopping the smile from growing on her face.

        Calum chuckled, the sound raspy and delicious, as he stepped through the threshold. “Didn’t feel right, letting you come here and clean the place up by yourself.” She closed the door and watched his brown eyes take in his surroundings, doing her best not to focus on the sharp line of his jaw as he let out a low whistle. “It looks exactly the same.”

        “It feels the same, too.”

        Calum quirked a dark eyebrow. “Was it supposed to feel different?”

        Adeline offered a small, almost sheepish smile, playing with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. They were long and she’d had to scrunch them up to her elbows to work efficiently, but it was one of her favorite sweatshirts. It brought her a calming sense of comfort. “I was kind of expecting it to feel. . . Haunted,” Adeline admitted, her gaze darting around the place. There was a tightness in her chest, not painful, but still present. “But it doesn’t. It—it feels like home.”

        And it did. It felt home in the way the paintings Aunt Lorraine liked were still hung up on the walls, or in the way there were still candles set up on the ledges around the place that her aunt always loved lighting. Little touches of Aunt Lorraine were still all around the lake house, and even though she wasn’t physically there, Adeline still knew she was.

        “I’m glad to hear that, Addie,” Calum said, looking at her once more. “I—”

        He cut himself off as he gazed at her and Adeline blinked at the look on his face. Her breath caught at the way he stared at her—a way that was so intimately familiar and one she felt her heart flutter at the sight of. Adeline had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on between the two of them, but every time she thought about it—about him—it made her feel like that teenager again. She’d missed that feeling so much.

        When she was about to ask Calum if everything was okay, he beat her to it, his accented voice slightly thick as he stated, “That’s my sweatshirt.”

        Adeline looked down at herself, as if just realizing what she was wearing and, in a way, she was. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that he was right—this sweatshirt was Calum’s, one she’d all but stolen back when she was eighteen and still his girlfriend. It had ended up with her at college, and Adeline never thought to give it back after they’d broken up. Could never bring herself to, so she kept it.

        She didn’t think he’d remember. It had lost his smell a long time ago.

        “Oh,” Adeline breathed, looking up at him once more. The look in his brown eyes—it was too much but it was everything. She didn’t know what to do with and she knew that he didn’t, either. She kind of felt awkward, but the way he was looking at her made her feel so warm. “Sorry I never gave it back—”

        “Don’t be.” Calum cleared his throat, blinking away the glimmer that had found its way into his eyes, replacing it with that boyish half smile that had her stomach flipping. Suddenly, he looked like that sixteen year old boy she met in second period English. “It always looked better on you, anyway.”

        If they flirted anymore without acting on it, Adeline was positive she’d burst into flames. Or tears. Either one.

        “Come on,” Calum ticked his head, the smile still on his face. “We’ve got some cleaning to do, yeah?”

        Adeline was more inclined to jump his bones but yeah, sure. Cleaning would do.

        He put his things away in one of the bedrooms since they had to clean upstairs anyway. There weren’t any sheets on the beds or pillows, so they got some from the linen cabinet and worked on two rooms each, the music that was playing on the TV downstairs filtering upstairs, too.

        One of the rooms Adeline was in was Aunt Lorraine’s old bedroom, and Adeline was surprised it didn’t hurt too much to be in there. Maybe it helped that none of Aunt Lorraine’s personal effects were in the room, other than decoration pieces. Besides, Adeline was already living in their house, had already found her way back to the lake house—the pain was there, sure, but it didn’t feel as paralyzing. Dr. Boocz would call that progress.

        Adeline cursed under her breath as she knocked her foot against a cardboard box poking out from under the bed, but she didn’t pay it any mind until she had the sheets on the bed and pillow. Once she was done, she pulled the box out, eyebrows furrowed, as she sat on the floor and leaned her back against the bed. The box wasn’t taped shut or anything, so Adeline opened the flaps and peered inside, eyebrows shooting up as she caught sight of a red photo album—one that had Adeline written across the front in gold cursive.

        She recognized the photo album; it was one Aunt Lorraine had kept since she was a child—since she had come to live with her after her parents’ deaths. Adeline waited for the burst of pain to shoot through at the thought of her aunt making this album, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was a warmth in her chest that she labeled as fondness, and a small smile curved at her lips as she opened it.

        The pictures started with Adeline as an infant, photographs she figured her mother had probably sent Aunt Lorraine. The pictures went as Adeline grew up, going from infant to toddler and so on. The smile remained on Adeline’s face as she looked at them, looked at the photos of her with her aunt and the genuine happiness on both of their faces, and she missed her. So much.

        She turned the page and suddenly the pictures weren’t just of Adeline or of Adeline with Aunt Lorraine—but of Adeline with her friends. A shocked laugh burst through her lips at a picture of her with three familiar boys, her frame already too short next to the giants looming over her.

        At that same moment, Adeline heard Calum’s voice. “Addie? You in here?”

        “Down here,” Adeline responded, raising her arm so Calum could see her sitting on the other side of the bed. She heard his footsteps, glanced up to see his tall body towering over her even now, raising his eyebrows.

        “What’re you doing?” he asked, gaze shifting to the album. “What’s that?”

        Calum sat down next to her on the floor, bringing his knees up as she peered at the album. A curse escaped him, eyes widening as he looked at the picture of the two of them, plus Michael and Luke, standing together and smiling for the camera. The photo was from the school block party that was thrown at the beginning of every year. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

        He sat close to her, his woodsy, pine scent embracing her like a warm hug as she flipped through the pictures. It was strange seeing photographs of Calum without his tattoos—even if, for a long time, that was the only image she had of him. As opposed to now—much taller, ink coloring his skin, hair a different color and length as well. Everything about him was different and yet everything about him was the same.

        “These were all taken before you hit puberty the second time,” Adeline mused, wanting to keep the air light as she turned the page. They were getting to pictures taken when the two of them had been together.

        Calum chuckled next to her. “Exactly how many times do you think I’ve gone through puberty?”

        Her voice was serious as she answered, “At least three.”

        He laughed again, and the sound threatened to raise goosebumps along her skin. Adeline turned the page and Calum sucked in a breath as he said softly, “Oh, shit.”

        She immediately knew what he was looking at; the picture from his senior prom. The two of them had attended two senior proms, of course; one from when Calum was a senior, and then when Adeline was a senior in high school, and he was a freshman in college. He’d come back to town to take her to prom. The picture was taken in front of Adeline’s house on the steps, her in a long silver dress that shimmered even in the picture and Calum looking wickedly handsome in his black tux. Both grinning, arms around each other, looking every bit like the high school sweethearts everyone assumed would last forever.

        If their school crowned prom king and queen, Adeline always knew—admittedly arrogantly—that they’d win.

        Silence befell them as they looked through the pictures; next came Calum’s high school graduation picture in his blue cap and gown, diploma in one hand and the other wrapped around a proudly grinning Adeline. The next two pictures came in the same order; first of Adeline’s senior prom—this time she wore a royal blue dress—and then her own graduation picture, dressed in her cap and gown with Calum standing behind her, arms wrapped around her and a grin just as proud as the one she’d worn for him.

        Something in Adeline’s heart tugged, realizing they’d reached the end of the album, because after that, there hadn’t been as significant moments between them to capture—they had broken up just a few months into Adeline’s freshman year at college. That was where their story had ended. Until now.

        Adeline closed the album, hand resting on top of the smooth velvet of it as she tried to rid of the dryness in her throat. She was acutely aware of the man sitting next to her—the man who’d been a boy in the pictures they just went through. Her heart was flipping tumultuously in her chest, and she wondered if Calum was feeling the same thing, or any semblance of it.

        His warmth still seeped into her body from their closeness, his scent still around her, and Adeline tried to work up the nerve to look at him, half afraid whatever was raging inside her was just for her and he didn’t share in it.

        Because in her heart and in her mind, Adeline knew that this wasn’t just fondness for the past acting up. She knew she wasn’t in some vulnerable state and letting her emotions get the better of her. She knew that whatever she was feeling, she was valid in feeling it. Because Calum—he wasn’t just anyone. He was exactly what she needed, what she wanted, and Adeline could feel the anxiety creeping up on her that it was unrequited.

        She finally looked at him, her brown eyes meeting his darker ones, and the breath caught in her throat. He was so close—she could count all of his unfairly long eyelashes, could imagine the scratch of the stubble on his chin and around his mouth, could feel the slight brush of his curling hair against her forehead. Was he waiting for her to say something? That could take a while—Adeline seemed to have lost all coherent communication skills.

        Calum’s lips, so soft and pink, parted but he didn’t say anything. She could see from the subtle twitch of his eyebrows that he wasn’t sure what to say, either. But she waited. He’d always been the more articulate one of the two of them. His throat worked and then Calum rasped in a quiet voice that wasn’t meant to disturb the silence of the house, “When can I see you again?”

        A startled, adoring laugh threatened to burst out of Adeline, but she kept it down. Her heart was beating wildly—could he hear it? She knew exactly what he was asking of her, and Adeline could fucking cry from relief. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a breath, voice shaking with yearning and anticipation as she whispered, “Now. You can see me right now.”

        She saw the profound relief that crossed his face before he leaned forward, because of course by see he meant kiss and of course Adeline knew that as she met him in the middle, eyes slipping shut, and finally kissed the only man she ever truly, undeterredly loved for eight years.

        It felt like coming home.

        Calum’s lips were as soft as she remembered, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek and pull her towards him. Everything else slipped away except for Calum as Adeline sensed him lower his legs and draw her closer, and Adeline shifted until she was straddling his lap, hands gripping the front of his shirt. He kissed her like he would die if he didn’t, his touch warm against her as he deepened the kiss and, God, how had she gone so long without this? Without him?

        Calum’s hands dropped to the back of her bare thighs and, in one swift movement, gripped her and stood to his feet. The kiss never broke as Calum lowered Adeline carefully onto the mattress, his body between her legs as he hovered over her.

        He broke the kiss and Adeline’s heart was pounding, vaguely aware of the music still playing throughout the house—a Hozier song. But her focus was on Calum on top of her, the warmth of his body and the way her lips hummed from his kisses. His darkening blonde curls fell over his forehead as he looked down at her, his own lips pink and kissed, and he looked absolutely perfect. The tightness in Adeline’s chest eased and she couldn’t possibly begin to describe what she felt in that moment—what she’d been feeling since the second he kissed her. Home. That’s what he was to her. And she’d been away far too long.

        “I wanna say somethin’,” Calum spoke, his voice low and gruff as his nose brushed against Adeline’s. His hooded gaze was on her lips, his jaw popping briefly. “But I don’t want you think I’m only saying it because of—this.”

        Adeline didn’t think her heart would calm down any time soon. Her hand reached up, brushing back some curls from his forehead before cupping his cheek, her smile soft when he leaned into her touch. The back of her mind whispered its guess of what Calum wanted to say, but she needed to hear it from his voice. Her own tone dropping to a breathless whisper, she said, “Say it.”

        Calum’s gaze lifted so his brown eyes could lock with hers, lips parting as he took in an unsteady breath. His eyebrows twitched together, and Adeline knew he was working up the nerve, and she waited patiently with a thundering heart. And when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but firm with absolute truth. “I love you.” Adeline sucked in a sharp breath and she wondered if he could feel the way her hand trembled against his cheek. A soft smile tugged at Calum’s lips, never breaking their gaze. “Never stopped, if I’m being honest. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s not coming back for you.”

        There was a sting in Adeline’s eyes and she didn’t want to cry, but Calum’s words had more of an impact on her than either of them could’ve guessed. Her heart was thundering under her chest as she looked up at him. “I think,” she began, her voice a shaky whisper as she tried to find the right words. “I think I was blinded by whatever sense of security I thought Ian gave me—so much that I almost went through with the biggest mistake I could’ve made.” Adeline’s throat worked as Calum hung on to every word she said, her lips curving up in a small smile. “But the truth is, it’s always been you.” A breathless laugh escaped her, hand sliding from her cheek to the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair as a smile grew on his lips. “I love you, too.”

        He laughed then, too, breathless and overwhelmed as she was before closing the gap and kissing her, setting a fire in Adeline’s veins as she pulled him closer.

        They moved together, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies effortlessly as kisses broke only to get rid of the offending clothes. Adeline’s hands slid over Calum’s body, fingers dancing over the ink on his skin, feeling the muscles shift and flex under her touch as he kissed her deeply. The press of his bare body against hers, the unobstructed warmth as he touched every curve, was so, so wonderfully familiar but excitingly new, and Adeline couldn’t get enough.

        They touched each other like it was the first time and last time, finding home in the swells and dips, not mourning what they missed by welcoming the sense of belonging they found in one another. Every kiss, every touch, every drag of hips was slow but desperate and purposeful, her soft sighs and his deep groans a cacophony with the music still playing throughout the house. Calum’s rings chilled her skin that was deliciously scratched by his stubble and her nails dragged down his back seductively, needily, and it was everything they could’ve hoped for and more.

        Adeline craved him; his kisses and his touch and the way he fit so perfectly and, fuck, how’d she go so long without any of this? Even back in high school, Adeline knew Calum was someone special, way before they started dating. She knew he was someone she wanted in her life in any way he could exist. How fucking stupid to have let him go, to live six years without his smile and laugh and company and touch?

        Never again.

        They lay on their sides after, spent and breathing back to normal, legs tangled together under the sheets as Calum’s fingers played with hers. There was a pinkness in Calum’s cheeks, resembling her own, as she watched him watch the way their fingers lightly, gently played against one another’s. An unrecognizable ballad was playing softly throughout the house, but Adeline paid it no mind, too focused on the man laying before her.

        He loved her. He still felt the same way about her, and it was everything. The years and distance between them didn’t matter, not when being with him felt so right, like it was exactly where she was supposed to be. They found each other once again, after so long, and this time Adeline would be damned if she ever let this, ever let him, go.

        “It feels like nothing’s changed,” Adeline said softly, not wanting to disturb the intimate quiet between them.

        Calum’s eyes met hers, one corner of his lips curving up. “One thing’s changed,” he said in a low voice, and when Adeline quirked an eyebrow, he continued, “I know what life’s like without you. And it’s not something I want to experience ever again. It was—I hated it, Addie, being away from you. Not knowing where or how you were. Every day that I didn’t try to reach out to you—I hated myself for it.”

        Adeline didn’t want to dwell on that—both of their refusal of finding the other. She knew his reasoning was the same as hers; too afraid to disrupt the other’s life. And it was that fear that kept them apart, but no longer. There was nothing keeping them apart, nor would there be. Spending a life without Calum seemed unfathomable, and Adeline had no interest in doing so.

        “We’re here now,” Adeline said, moving her fingers so they threaded through Calum’s, holding his hand. “If there’s one thing Aunt Lorraine taught me—” Adeline took a breath, briefly preparing for that sting of pain. It was there, but not as prominent, as Calum squeezed her hand. “It’s to keep those important to you close.” A simple lesson, but one Adeline was finally understanding. She let out a soft laugh. “It’s about time I learned it.”

        Calum grinned, breathtaking and wide and allowing his crinkles to make an appearance. He kissed the back of her hand, eyes never leaving hers, before he asked with that smile turning boyish and teasing. “So, Addie—when can I see you again?”

        Her breath caught with the grin she wore, the flutter in her chest one she never wanted to be rid of. She didn’t think she’d been this happy since—well, since before Aunt Lorraine passed. How unsurprising that it was Calum, of all people, who brought that happiness back in her life.

        “Tonight,” Adeline answered through her smile, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. “Tomorrow,” she continued, speaking between kisses as Calum’s hands found her hips and pulled her on top of him. The sheets slipped down a bit, but her hair provided a curtain for the two of them, lost in their own worlds as she kept kissing him and his laughter rumbled deeply through his chest, keeping her close.

She knew he wasn’t about to let her go any time soon—she obviously wouldn’t want him to, her own hands resting on his shoulders. His eyes were bright, a light shining in them that she had missed. Calum, this, the two of them together—it would always come down to this. They were inevitable. “The day after that. . . And every day after that, too.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @meetashthere @astroashtonio @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbabiesss @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @malumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @tpwkcal @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @notinthesameguey​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​  

[yuujispinkhair]

Okay maybe I’m being a bit of a baby, I’m sorry…I’m just super self conscious…How long have you been on tumblr writing?

I only ask cause you get so many hits on your writings and so quickly too! (That’s great I’m not wishing you didn’t!)

But I’ve been told my writing is decent, and I try really hard to make good content, but it still isn’t getting the attention I was always hoping for… 🥺 just wondering where I’m going wrong, or perhaps you’ve been here way longer so you have more of a solid following by now.

First of all, I am sorry that you feel insecure and sad! I'm sending you hugs and kisses!! <3<3 It's frustrating when you work hard on your stories, and then they don't get the attention you hoped, but please don't be too critical with yourself. It depends on many factors whether your work gets attention or not, and a lot of it is sheer luck. The notes arent any indicator of whether a story is good or not!! It really depends on who reblogs it, whether people are into the characters, whether they enjoy this particular trope, etc.

The things you have influence over are:

Use the tags, so your fic shows up for many people who aren't following you yet. Please only tag the characters who are actually in the fic, though! But use the names in their different forms. For example, if I write some fluff for Yuuji, I will tag it with a combination of his name and the word fluff. I will use just the first name + fluff, just the last name + fluff, both + fluff...

Then please don't be shy to reblog your work during the following days after posting. Reblog it several times a day so people from different time zones can see it on their dash!

Create a taglist, so the people on that list will get a notification when you post.

Those are the things you can do. The rest is pure luck. I've been posting here since August 2021. I have about 1800 followers right now. Some of my work does well right after posting it. Some of it doesn't get attention when I post it. I, too, have stories where I put my whole heart and pussy into and thought, woaaah, this is gonna be a hit, but it didn't get popular lmaooo. Some of my stories needed months to get a big amount of notes. But I think you shouldn't think too much about which stories will be popular. Just write whatever you want to write and what makes you happy! We aren't professional authors who have to cater to publishing houses or their audiences. So we are free to write anything that brings us joy. And I think that's what makes fanfic so beautiful!

I know it's sad when those stories you put your heart into don't get lots of notes. (I experience that anytime I post Itafushi or Sukuita fics). But fandom, to me, is about screaming and fangirling about my fave characters and ships. So if I write the content I want to see, I will meet people who enjoy the same things I do, and we can talk about those together. That's the most fun part about being here for me!! Try not to compare yourself to others. Try not to analyze too much. I think the moment you start writing just to get as many notes as someone else, you will lose the joy in writing, and that's sad. Write what YOU like and what YOU want to read. I remember a post where someone dissed people for writing domestic Sukuna (no shade, by the way! I couldn't tell whether it was supposed to be a joke or not, so maybe I just misinterpreted it), But well, here I am writing Sukuna fluff!! :) Because that's what makes me happy and gives me comfort. You see what I'm trying to say? Create the content you love and that you want to see. Try not to think about the notes or what other people will think! Maybe it will help you to take a short break from posting here? Just try to get the feeling of joy back! Sit down at home, get comfy with coffee and some good playlist and write something super self-indulgent. Write something that makes you squeal and laugh and cry and drives you crazy. Just write it for yourself. And maybe after a while, you will feel like posting it here again. But try to do it without putting pressure on yourself.

I hope you'll feel better soon!! <3<3<3

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙇𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 (𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞)

Pairing: Song Mingi (Ateez)× Reader (Female) ft. Park Seonghwa (Ateez)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor.

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: Mingi has liked Y/N for the longest time and works up the courage to confess to her.......until he witnesses her confessing to someone else.

Tag: @seacottons . Happy birthday my tiny goofy goober.

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"Scribbling away another love letter that you'll end up throwing in the garbage bin yet again?"

Mingi quickly covered the paper in front of him with his large hands, startled by the voice of his friend who silently came in the room.

"Yeosang don't freaking scare me like that! Seriously, I'm going to ask Seonghwa to put a bell on you."

Adjusting the glasses on his nose, Mingi carefully folded the paper before placing it inside a pink colored envelope which he ended up wrapping a string around it. For the final touch, he attached a small flower on it like he did on all the other ones, this time it was a mini red carnation, which he gently kissed before placing it in the stash with the others.

Yeosang simply shook his head and sighed.

"Mingi, I'm no relationship expert, but don't you think it'd be better to tell Y/N how you feel instead of pouring your heart out into a piece of paper and storing it in a cold corner?"

The taller male sat still for a couple seconds, thinking about his friend's words. Maybe he would....and yet-

"No I- I can't do that! I mean, look at me. I'm just Mingi and she's Y/N."

Yeosang rolled his eyes.

"Yes, glad to see you know both of your names. But what's keeping you from telling her? Like seriously?"

Kicking himself off the chair, Mingi slumped onto his bed, sprawling all over it and groaning dramatically.

"She's super cool, funny, kind, caring and has eyes to die for..."

Lifting his head up he smiled goofily at Yeosang who just scrunched his nose at how lovesick Mingi was. Coming back to reality, Mingi rolled over onto his back. Clutching a nearby pillow, he hugged it as he looked at the ceiling.

"And I'm just me.......she'd never fall for someone like me..."

Yeosang sat next to him. Patting his arm in an effort to comfort him, he suggested:

"Why not try still? Who knows? Maybe you'll end up being surprised yourself."

Mingi pondered over his Yeosang's words long after he was gone. He looked back at the stash of written confessions he had drafted over the past months.

"Why not? After all, it wouldn't hurt me to try......"

"Right?"

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Y/N paced back and forth around the living room, feeling extremely anxious and agitated.

"It's ok Y/N. Just breathe and you'll be fine. The worse he can do is reject you right? No biggie." She mentally told herself.

Looking back at the cake on the island, she double checked to make sure it looked perfect and even. She had to remind herself to thank Yunho for telling her what his friend's favorite cake was, even if he had demanded a cake of his own as payment for the information. She got startled when she finally heard the door open.

"Don't panic! Don't panic!" She couldn't keep herself from fidgeting with the sleeves of her sweater.

Maybe there was still time to back out of this, maybe she could pretend she dropped the cake for all of them, even if he was the only one there at that moment. She was so frustrated she actually leaned her forehead against the wall in front of her and whined lowly.

"Y/N?" She finally heard him speak.

Without turning around, she lifted a hand behind her to signal him to not speak. Taking a deep breath she declared:

"Listen! I'm only going to say this once so hear me out...."

The man behind her stood there, eyeing her curiously, wondering what she'd say. He was pretty shocked when he heard her continue.

"I've liked you for the longest time now...... like seriously like you. Every time I see you, I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my chest..."

Sighing softly, she got to the final part.

"I understand if you don't feel the same, if you'll see me as nothing but a friend. After all, you're an idol and have so many pretty faces constantly surrounding you, and you're so handsome, so perfect and sweet and cute and- ugh! I just wanted to let you know that I really really like you ok?!"

She felt so embarrased by herself and actually contemplated banging her head against the concrete in front of her. She already could feel the rejection coming, the silence being the huge indicator. Not able to bear the silence anymore, she turned around.

"Stop dragging it on and just tell me- Seonghwa?!"

She was beyond mortified when she saw the eldest Ateez member in front of her, who was now poking at the cake.

"I mean........ I appreciate the sentiment Y/N, but you should know my favorite ice cream is strawberry. Not .....whatever this is..."

Y/N snatched the cake away from him.

"It's not for you idiot! And the confession wasn't for you either!"

Seonghwa pretended to be hurt by her words.

"Ouch. You hurt me so bad." He mock pouted, causing her to roll her eyes.

"But honestly, thank God it wasn't for me. I was about to get a heart attack from thinking about how to let you down gently."

Y/N looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, no offense Y/N. You're cute and all but I just see you as a friend." He explained.

"None taken. You're cute and all but I just see you as the other's nanny." She teased him.

"Hey you take that back!" He swatted at her, causing her to laugh and almost drop the cake.

"Ok but if you weren't expecting me to come by the door? Who were you expecting?"

Leaning his elbow on the wall, Seonghwa looked at Y/N with a mischievous twinkle in the eye.

"Tell me. I must know who among our members is it that makes your heart pound so much?"

"That's my secret." She pretended to zip her lips tightly.

"Awww come on! I hardly get any excitement anymore! Tell me! I wanna know!" He continued pestering her to dish it out.

She bit her lip before deciding she could trust him.

"It's.....it's Mingi. ..."

Seonghwa immediately got a shocked look on his face which terrified Y/N, but then it confused her when he started smiling widely.

"Are you serious?! That's great!" Seonghwa actually hugged her tightly.

"Why is that great?"

Seonghwa leaned in, pressing his lips to her ear.

"Because, he may or may not be also crushing on you....hard."

Seonghwa chuckled at her reaction.

"Cute. Super cute."

Seonghwa couldn't resist the urge to nuzzle his nose against her cheek, making Y/N make gagging noises at his affection and jokingly attemp to escape his grasp.....

Yet neither of them noticed the heartbroken pair of eyes that was watching them.

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Mingi was upset for the next few days and didn't even try to hide it. He couldn't get that image out of his head. He could still hear Y/N's voice say:

"I've liked you for the longest time now...... like seriously like you. Every time I see you, I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my chest...

I just wanted to let you know that I really really like you ok?!"

He was so shocked to hear her say that. For the longest time he had wanted to hear her utter those words....

But they weren't for him, they were for someone else.

He couldn't stay anymore. He quietly exited the dorm to give them both the space they needed. Waiting for several minutes outside, he debated whether to go back inside and see what happened or just go back to the company to practice the choreography once more and hopefully get his mind off things. Curiosity getting the better of him, Mingi slowly opened the door again and silently peeked his head back in.

He instantly regretted it and wished he had just gone back to practice. It absolutely destroyed him watching his Hyung be lovey dovey with the girl of his dreams and he knew he'd hate the coming days. Which was why he stayed in his room or just went out to practice to keep his mind occupied.

He wasn't in the mood to play with Yunho, mess with Hongjoong and especially not eat what Seonghwa cooked. It started to worry the others and of course, it also worried Y/N to no end. She tried to cheer him up, make him his favorite foods or try to get him out of bed, but it was all in vain. Mingi would end up shutting down more and just dismissing her attempts, sometimes harshly.

"Y/N please just leave me alone! I don't want to see you!" He yelled at her one day when he just couldn't control what he'd kept bottled up inside.

He instantly felt bad when he saw her sad and disappointed eyes, but didn't apologize. He simply grabbed his coat and went for a walk, leaving the poor girl in total disillusionment. Y/N sat down on his bed, her hand gently stroking the throw blanket he always kept.

"Now you've got a long face. Don't tell me it's contagious."

Usually she'd chuck a pillow at Yeosang's comment, but she didn't even feel like doing that.

"What's with you?" Yeosang asked as he took a seat next to her.

"I'm just....hurt.." She admitted.

"Why?" He continued his interrogation.

"I just......wanted to help Mingi but instead he lashed out at me and it hurts because I care about him a lot and it hurts to have the person you like treat you so coldly."

She didn't even realize she had just told Yeosang her secret, but she was too hurt to even think about the words coming out of her mouth. Yeosang however seemed intrigued by what she said, and knowing how Mingi was pining for her as well, couldn't understand either why he'd make her feel that way.

"If it's any consolation..... he likes you too."

Although Seonghwa had already hinted that Mingi liked her too, she couldn't really take his words seriously because Seonghwa tended to misinterpret things. But she knew Yeosang was straightforward and honest in everything, plus he wouldn't make something like this up.

"He does?" She looked at him incredulously.

Yeosang nodded. Remembering the box Mingi hid, he got up, not caring whether it was ok or not to do this, but something had to be done. Picking up the red box he placed it on Y/N's lap.

"Read them. They're Mingi's. Maybe there you'll find a clue about what's bothering him."

Ruffling the top of her head, Yeosang exited the room and closed the door behind him, knowing she'd probably want the privacy.

Snapping the latch up, Y/N was more than surprised to see several letters neatly laid out in the box. There were at least a dozen of them, all addressed to her and stacked by the order they were written in. The envelopes were all different colors, and each had a unique flower attached to it, some already dried out from how old they were, but others were still fresh and vibrant. Picking up the first one in the stack, she noticed it was dated 1 week after she had just moved into the apartment next to them.

"Dear Y/N,

I know you'd find it odd to hear me say this, but I think you're so pretty and nice and I was wondering if one day you'd like to go on a date with me? Let me know."

She giggled softly at how cute he was. She poured over the next letters one by one, each time they were getting longer and longer than the last one, and they certainly became more romantic.

"Dear Y/N,

It's been only a few minutes since we all went to bed cause New Year's is over, but I honestly can't sleep. Not when my head is filled with images of you at the party, looking absolutely gorgeous in that dress you wore. Let me tell you, I could hardly keep myself still when the fireworks began. I seriously wanted to kiss you right then and there, and I would have, but that would have probably freaked you out and I can't have that. Admiring you was enough for me and I know I will get to kiss you, even if it's only in my dreams."

Y/N fondly remembered that. She recalled how she fantasized about Mingi kissing her as well. She desperately wanted him to cup her face and just plant his luscious lips on hers. She could feel herself blushing as she thought about how they would feel and what would they taste like. It was well an hour later but she finally reached the last letter, which was actually written up just yesterday. This time it was in a dark blue envelop and it had a tiny stem of Forget-Me-Nots on it.

"Dear Y/N,

I know it's foolish to keep writing these things when I now know you can never be mine, when I know your heart belongs to someone else. But I need to get it off my chest and finally say this:

I love you..."

She clutched her heart when she read that, tears already forming in her eyes.

"I love you, but I can never have you. Yet I hold no resentment towards you. You're free to love who you want. I wish you and Seonghwa Hyung nothing but happiness and I hope he treats you like the princess you are.

Forever yours, hoping you never forget me,

Song Mingi."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what he meant by being happy with Seonghwa. Then it hit her. Mingi had started acting strange the day after the misunderstanding with Seonghwa happened. Which meant he must have seen something and thought-

"Oh my God!"

Y/N quickly ran out the room, almost bumping into San who dramatically slammed his back on the wall, holding his beloved baby high above any danger.

"It's ok my precious Byeol! Your father has saved you from this heathen who doesn't know that she shouldn't run in the house especially when I'm with child!"

San shook his head and held the feline close to him as he walked into his room to play with her, singing an unintelligible tune that wasn't exactly pleasant to the siamese' ears.

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Y/N was once again sweating nervously. She kept looking and shuffling the plate of macarons in the middle of the table. She specifically poked at the pink one, hoping it wouldn't fall apart or anything. She could hardly take a sip out of her own coffee as she waited for Mingi to get there. She was beginning to worry he wouldn't show up at all, but Yeosang promised to make sure he did. She took out her phone to text Yeosang, ask him if he succeeded or should she just think of something else.

"Y/N? Did you call me here?"

She fumbled with her phone that almost dropped out of her hands when she finally heard Mingi and saw him standing there in front of her.

"Uhm...yeah. Please sit."

She gestured for him to sit which he hesitantly did. He kept his glance on the table, not even looking at the drink or treats in front of him. Wanting to break the ice, Y/N shifted the cup and plates closer to him.

"Look. I got your favorites."

She hoped to get a reaction out of him, but nothing. He barely batted an eyelash at them.

"Oh.....thanks...." Still made no move to take anything.

Feeling impatient, Y/N shoved the plate of macarons closer, making it touch his hand.

"Mingi.....won't you please take one?"

He sighed in defeat, and as expected, he took the pink one.

"I appreciate your effort Y/N. You're a good friend. But don't you think your boyfriend might get jealous of you doing this? We all know how Seonghwa is with his possessions."

Y/N wanted to refute that statement right then and there, but instead, she chose to wait. Mingi took a bite out of the macaron, or at least attempted to but it felt oddly hard and weird. Examining it closely, he accidentally broke it apart in two pieces, and out came a tiny folded paper. Mingi looked at Y/N, who just pointed to the paper, her eyes urging him to open it. Mingi carefully unfolded the paper and his eyes went wide as he read the contents:

"I love you too♡"

Confused and wondering what it meant, he was going to ask Y/N about it, but she began explaining:

"That day.....that you saw me and Seonghwa..... I thought it was you who was standing behind me."

If they weren't sitting in a booth and had instead been at one of the tables with high chairs, Mingi would have seriously fallen out of it.

"That confession....was supposed to be for you.."

Mingi couldn't believe what he was hearing. He actually pinched himself to make sure it wasn't another beautiful delusion his mind was making up.

"Are.....are you serious?" He had to be sure.

Y/N nodded her head.

"Then....then why was Seonghwa kissing your cheek afterwards?"

Y/N giggled softly.

"That wasn't a kiss. He was just being the little shit he was and teasing me about you."

Now it all made sense. Seonghwa did enjoy teasing Y/N and that teasing was always followed by a pinch to her cheek, a squeezing of her nose, or even messing up her hair.

"So it was all a misunderstanding?" Mingi asked.

"Yeah. A rather big and painful one if you ask me." She added sadly.

Then Mingi's eyes shot up as he realized something.

"Wait! What do you mean you love me too?"

Now it was Y/N's turn to blush.

"Well...... Yeosang kinda showed me all the letters you wrote."

Mingi thought he was about to have a heart attack.

"Please tell me you didn't read them all."

When she bit her lip, Mingi grimaced and covered his face.

"How embarrassing. I want to die now."

"Well.....I thought they were really sweet and romantic. I loved every one of them."

Peeking out through his fingers, Mingi squeaked out an "Really?"

Y/N couldn't resist the urge to uncover his face and coo at him.

"Yes I did, almost as much as I love you."

Mingi blushed intensely at her words, both of them bursting out into little giggles.

"So that cake you made.......those words you said..... it is for me?" He looked at Y/N with hope in his eyes.

"It was always you Mingi."

Pouting, Mingi held out his pinkie.

"Promise?"

Linking her own pinkie in his, she promised:

"Promise it was you and it will always be you."

Mingi was happy once again now that everything was cleared up and he found out the girl he loved reciprocated his feelings. They left the cafe together, both shy and quiet as if they were a newlywed couple. Mingi kept glancing over at her, wanting to say something, but didn't know what. Unconsciously, he brushed his hand against hers.

"Sorry!" He apologized when she whipped her head at him.

"I swear! I wasn't trying to-"

His words got caught in his throat when she held his hand and continues walking as if it was totally normal. Mingi couldn't stop himself from smiling at their physical contact.

"So uhh..........when is it an acceptable time to have our first kiss?"

His question made her burst out laughing. He however didn't find it funny.

"I'm serious! I just want to know when it'll be an acceptable time to kiss my girlfriend!" He complained.

Stopping in their tracks, Y/N faced him.

"Ok you really wanna know?"

Mingi nodded. Feeling bold, Y/N got on her tippy toes and pecked his lips so quickly it took Mingi a couple seconds to register what happened. Y/N began running back away and laughing at his dumbfounded expression. Once he got over the shock, Mingi began sprinting over to her.

"Hey! No fair! Come back here! I wasn't ready! Let me kiss you properly!"

Having longer legs, he easily caught her and threw her over his shoulder.

"That was so mean." He huffed as he began walking again, not caring if people looked at them weird.

"Ok what can I do to make it up to you?" She offered.

Humming softly, Mingi answered:

"I want you to cuddle me while we watch movies."

Y/N shrugged.

"Done. It's a deal."

Not hiding the smug smile on his face, Mingi added:

"And I want to kiss you."

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